6 He compares the fall of Phlegethon to that of the Montone (a river in Romagna) form the Apennines above the Abbey of St. Benedict. All the other streams that rise between the sources of the Po and the Montone, and fall from the left side of the Apennines, join the Po and accompany it to the sea.
7 There it loses the name of Acquacheta, and takes that of Montone.
8 Either because the abbey was capable of containing more than those who occupied it, or because (says Landino) the lords of that territory had intended to build a castle near the water-fall, and to collect within its walls the population of the neighboring villages.
9 “A cord.” It is believed that our poet in early life, had entered into the order of St. Francis. By observing the rules of that profession he had designed “to take the painted leopard” (that animal represented Pleasure) “with this cord.”)
Canto XVII
ARGUMENT.—The monster Geryon is described; to whom while Virgil is speaking in order that he may carry them both down to the next circle, Dante, by permission, goes further along the edge of the void, to descry the third species of sinners contained in this compartment, namely, those who have done violence to Art; and then returning to his master, they both descend, seated on the back of Geryon.
“LO! the fell monster1 with the deadly sting!
Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls
And firm embattled spears, and with his filth
Taints all the world!” Thus me my guide address’d,
And beckon’d him, that he should come to shore,
Near to the stony causeway’s utmost edge.
Forthwith that image vile of fraud appear’d,
His head and upper part expos’d on land,
But laid not on the shore his bestial train.
His face the semblance of a just man’s wore,
So kind and gracious was its outward cheer;
The rest was serpent all: two shaggy claws
Reach’d to the armpits, and the back and breast,
And either side, were painted o’er with nodes
And orbits. Colours variegated more
Nor Turks nor Tartars e’er on cloth of state
With interchangeable embroidery wove,
Nor spread Arachne o’er her curious loom.
As ofttimes a light skiff, moor’d to the shore,
Stands part in water, part upon the land;
Or, as where dwells the greedy German boor,
The beaver settles watching for his prey;
So on the rim, that fenc’d the sand with rock,
Sat perch’d the fiend of evil. In the void
Glancing, his tail upturn’d its venomous fork,
With sting like scorpion’s arm’d. Then thus my guide:
“Now need our way must turn few steps apart,
Far as to that ill beast, who couches there.”
Thereat toward the right our downward course
We shap’d, and, better to escape the flame
And burning marle, ten paces on the verge
Proceeded. Soon as we to him arrive,
A little further on mine eye beholds
A tribe of spirits, seated on the sand
Near the wide chasm. Forthwith my master spake:
“That to the full thy knowledge may extend
Of all this round contains, go now, and mark
The mien these wear: but hold not long discourse.
Till thou returnest, I with him meantime
Will parley, that to us he may vouchsafe
The aid of his strong shoulders.” Thus alone
Yet forward on the’ extremity I pac’d
Of that seventh circle, where the mournful tribe
Were seated. At the eyes forth gush’d their pangs.
Against the vapours and the torrid soil
Alternately their shifting hands they plied.
Thus use the dogs in summer still to ply
Their jaws and feet by turns, when bitten sore
By gnats, or flies, or gadflies swarming round.
Noting the visages of some, who lay
Beneath the pelting of that dolorous fire,
One of them all I knew not; but perceiv’d,
That pendent from his neck each bore a pouch2
With colours and with emblems various mark’d,
On which it seem’d as if their eye did feed.
And when amongst them looking round I came,
A yellow purse3 I saw with azure wrought,
That wore a lion’s countenance and port.
Then still my sight pursuing its career,
Another4 I beheld, than blood more red.
A goose display of whiter wing than curd.
And one, who bore a fat and azure swine5
Pictur’d on his white scrip, addressed me thus:
“What dost thou in this deep? Go now and know,
Since yet thou livest, that my neighbour here
Vitaliano6 on my left shall sit.
A Paduan with these Florentines am I.
Ofttimes they thunder in mine ears, exclaiming
“O haste that noble knight!7 he who the pouch
With the three beaks will bring!” This said, he writh’d
The mouth, and loll’d the tongue out, like an ox