THE DIVINE COMEDY: Inferno, Purgatorio & Paradiso (3 Classic Translations in One Edition). Dante Alighieri. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Dante Alighieri
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       To whom I answ'ring: "Oh! as thou dost hope,

       The other may not flesh its jaws on thee,

       Be patient to inform us, who it is,

       Ere it speed hence."—"That is the ancient soul

       Of wretched Myrrha," he replied, "who burn'd

       With most unholy flame for her own sire,

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       "And a false shape assuming, so perform'd

       The deed of sin; e'en as the other there,

       That onward passes, dar'd to counterfeit

       Donati's features, to feign'd testament

       The seal affixing, that himself might gain,

       For his own share, the lady of the herd."

       When vanish'd the two furious shades, on whom

       Mine eye was held, I turn'd it back to view

       The other cursed spirits. One I saw

       In fashion like a lute, had but the groin

       Been sever'd, where it meets the forked part.

       Swoln dropsy, disproportioning the limbs

       With ill-converted moisture, that the paunch

       Suits not the visage, open'd wide his lips

       Gasping as in the hectic man for drought,

       One towards the chin, the other upward curl'd.

       "O ye, who in this world of misery,

       Wherefore I know not, are exempt from pain,"

       Thus he began, "attentively regard

       Adamo's woe. When living, full supply

       Ne'er lack'd me of what most I coveted;

       One drop of water now, alas! I crave.

       The rills, that glitter down the grassy slopes

       Of Casentino, making fresh and soft

       The banks whereby they glide to Arno's stream,

       Stand ever in my view; and not in vain;

       For more the pictur'd semblance dries me up,

       Much more than the disease, which makes the flesh

       Desert these shrivel'd cheeks. So from the place,

       Where I transgress'd, stern justice urging me,

       Takes means to quicken more my lab'ring sighs.

       There is Romena, where I falsified

       The metal with the Baptist's form imprest,

       For which on earth I left my body burnt.

       But if I here might see the sorrowing soul

       Of Guido, Alessandro, or their brother,

       For Branda's limpid spring I would not change

       The welcome sight. One is e'en now within,

       If truly the mad spirits tell, that round

       Are wand'ring. But wherein besteads me that?

       My limbs are fetter'd. Were I but so light,

       That I each hundred years might move one inch,

       I had set forth already on this path,

       Seeking him out amidst the shapeless crew,

       Although eleven miles it wind, not more

       Than half of one across. They brought me down

       Among this tribe; induc'd by them I stamp'd

       The florens with three carats of alloy."

       "Who are that abject pair," I next inquir'd,

       "That closely bounding thee upon thy right

       Lie smoking, like a band in winter steep'd

       In the chill stream?"—"When to this gulf I dropt,"

       He answer'd, "here I found them; since that hour

       They have not turn'd, nor ever shall, I ween,

       Till time hath run his course. One is that dame

       The false accuser of the Hebrew youth;

       Sinon the other, that false Greek from Troy.

       Sharp fever drains the reeky moistness out,

       In such a cloud upsteam'd." When that he heard,

       One, gall'd perchance to be so darkly nam'd,

       With clench'd hand smote him on the braced paunch,

       That like a drum resounded: but forthwith

       Adamo smote him on the face, the blow

       Returning with his arm, that seem'd as hard.

       "Though my o'erweighty limbs have ta'en from me

       The power to move," said he, "I have an arm

       At liberty for such employ." To whom

       Was answer'd: "When thou wentest to the fire,

       Thou hadst it not so ready at command,

       Then readier when it coin'd th' impostor gold."

       And thus the dropsied: "Ay, now speak'st thou true.

       But there thou gav'st not such true testimony,

       When thou wast question'd of the truth, at Troy."

       "If I spake false, thou falsely stamp'dst the coin,"

       Said Sinon; "I am here but for one fault,

       And thou for more than any imp beside."

       "Remember," he replied, "O perjur'd one,

       The horse remember, that did teem with death,

       And all the world be witness to thy guilt."

       "To thine," return'd the Greek, "witness the thirst

       Whence thy tongue cracks, witness the fluid mound,

       Rear'd by thy belly up before thine eyes,

       A mass corrupt." To whom the coiner thus:

       "Thy mouth gapes wide as ever to let pass

       Its evil saying. Me if thirst assails,

       Yet I am stuff'd with moisture. Thou art parch'd,

       Pains rack thy head, no urging would'st thou need

       To make thee lap Narcissus' mirror up."

       I was all fix'd to listen, when my guide

       Admonish'd: "Now beware: a little more.

       And I do quarrel with thee." I perceiv'd

       How angrily he spake, and towards him turn'd

       With shame so poignant, as remember'd yet

       Confounds me. As a man that dreams of harm

       Befall'n him, dreaming wishes it a dream,

       And that which is, desires as if it were not,

       Such then was I, who wanting power to speak

       Wish'd to excuse myself, and all the while

       Excus'd me, though unweeting that I did.

       "More grievous fault than thine has been, less shame,"

       My master cried, "might expiate. Therefore cast

       All sorrow from thy soul; and if again