## THE VISION OF HELL, Volume 6.
By Dante Alighieri, Illustrated by Dore

    The Project Gutenberg EBook The Vision of Hell, by Dante, Vol. 6
    #26 in our series by Dante Alighieri
    Translated by Henry Francis Cary, Illustrated by Gustave Dore

    Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
    copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
    this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.

    This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project
    Gutenberg file.  Please do not remove it.  Do not change or edit the
    header without written permission.

    Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the
    eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file.  Included is
    important information about your specific rights and restrictions in
    how the file may be used.  You can also find out about how to make a
    donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.

    **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

    **EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

    *****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers*****

    Title: The Vision of Hell, Volume 6.

    Author: Dante Alighieri

    Release Date: August, 2005  [Etext #8784]
    [Yes, we are about one year ahead of schedule]
    [This file was first posted on August 8, 2003]

    Edition: 10

    Language: English

    Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

    *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, VISION OF HELL, DANTE, V6 ***

    This file was produced by David Widger

# THE VISION

## OF

# HELL, PURGATORY, AND PARADISE

## BY

# DANTE ALIGHIERI

### TRANSLATED BY

## THE REV. H. F. CARY, M.A.

# HELL

### Volume 6.

## LIST OF CANTOS

Previous Volume Canto 13 Canto 14 Canto 15 Canto 16 Canto 17 Next Volume

## CANTO XIII ERE Nessus yet had reach'd the other bank, We enter'd on a forest, where no track Of steps had worn a way. Not verdant there The foliage, but of dusky hue; not light The boughs and tapering, but with knares deform'd And matted thick: fruits there were none, but thorns Instead, with venom fill'd. Less sharp than these, Less intricate the brakes, wherein abide Those animals, that hate the cultur'd fields, Betwixt Corneto and Cecina's stream. Here the brute Harpies make their nest, the same Who from the Strophades the Trojan band Drove with dire boding of their future woe. Broad are their pennons, of the human form Their neck and count'nance, arm'd with talons keen The feet, and the huge belly fledge with wings These sit and wail on the drear mystic wood. The kind instructor in these words began: "Ere farther thou proceed, know thou art now I' th' second round, and shalt be, till thou come Upon the horrid sand: look therefore well Around thee, and such things thou shalt behold, As would my speech discredit." On all sides I heard sad plainings breathe, and none could see From whom they might have issu'd. In amaze Fast bound I stood. He, as it seem'd, believ'd, That I had thought so many voices came From some amid those thickets close conceal'd, And thus his speech resum'd: "If thou lop off A single twig from one of those ill plants, The thought thou hast conceiv'd shall vanish quite." Thereat a little stretching forth my hand, From a great wilding gather'd I a branch, And straight the trunk exclaim'd: "Why pluck'st thou me?" Then as the dark blood trickled down its side, These words it added: "Wherefore tear'st me thus? Is there no touch of mercy in thy breast? Men once were we, that now are rooted here. Thy hand might well have spar'd us, had we been The souls of serpents." As a brand yet green, That burning at one end from the' other sends A groaning sound, and hisses with the wind That forces out its way, so burst at once, Forth from the broken splinter words and blood. I, letting fall the bough, remain'd as one Assail'd by terror, and the sage replied: "If he, O injur'd spirit! could have believ'd What he hath seen but in my verse describ'd, He never against thee had stretch'd his hand. But I, because the thing surpass'd belief, Prompted him to this deed, which even now Myself I rue. But tell me, who thou wast; That, for this wrong to do thee some amends, In the upper world (for thither to return Is granted him) thy fame he may revive." "That pleasant word of thine," the trunk replied "Hath so inveigled me, that I from speech Cannot refrain, wherein if I indulge A little longer, in the snare detain'd, Count it not grievous. I it was, who held Both keys to Frederick's heart, and turn'd the wards, Opening and shutting, with a skill so sweet, That besides me, into his inmost breast Scarce any other could admittance find. The faith I bore to my high charge was such, It cost me the life-blood that warm'd my veins. The harlot, who ne'er turn'd her gloating eyes From Caesar's household, common vice and pest Of courts, 'gainst me inflam'd the minds of all; And to Augustus they so spread the flame, That my glad honours chang'd to bitter woes. My soul, disdainful and disgusted, sought Refuge in death from scorn, and I became, Just as I was, unjust toward myself. By the new roots, which fix this stem, I swear, That never faith I broke to my liege lord, Who merited such honour; and of you, If any to the world indeed return, Clear he from wrong my memory, that lies Yet prostrate under envy's cruel blow." First somewhat pausing, till the mournful words Were ended, then to me the bard began: "Lose not the time; but speak and of him ask, If more thou wish to learn." Whence I replied: "Question thou him again of whatsoe'er Will, as thou think'st, content me; for no power Have I to ask, such pity' is at my heart." He thus resum'd; "So may he do for thee Freely what thou entreatest, as thou yet Be pleas'd, imprison'd Spirit! to declare, How in these gnarled joints the soul is tied; And whether any ever from such frame Be loosen'd, if thou canst, that also tell." Thereat the trunk breath'd hard, and the wind soon Chang'd into sounds articulate like these; Briefly ye shall be answer'd. When departs The fierce soul from the body, by itself Thence torn asunder, to the seventh gulf By Minos doom'd, into the wood it falls, No place assign'd, but wheresoever chance Hurls it, there sprouting, as a grain of spelt, It rises to a sapling, growing thence A savage plant. The Harpies, on its leaves Then feeding, cause both pain and for the pain A vent to grief. We, as the rest, shall come For our own spoils, yet not so that with them We may again be clad; for what a man Takes from himself it is not just he have. Here we perforce shall drag them; and throughout The dismal glade our bodies shall be hung, Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade." Attentive yet to listen to the trunk We stood, expecting farther speech, when us A noise surpris'd, as when a man perceives The wild boar and the hunt approach his place Of station'd watch, who of the beasts and boughs Loud rustling round him hears. And lo! there came Two naked, torn with briers, in headlong flight, That they before them broke each fan o' th' wood. "Haste now," the foremost cried, "now haste thee death!" The' other, as seem'd, impatient of delay Exclaiming, "Lano! not so bent for speed Thy sinews, in the lists of Toppo's field." And then, for that perchance no longer breath Suffic'd him, of himself and of a bush One group he made. Behind them was the wood Full of black female mastiffs, gaunt and fleet, As greyhounds that have newly slipp'd the leash. On him, who squatted down, they stuck their fangs, And having rent him piecemeal bore away The tortur'd limbs. My guide then seiz'd my hand, And led me to the thicket, which in vain Mourn'd through its bleeding wounds: "O Giacomo Of Sant' Andrea! what avails it thee," It cried, "that of me thou hast made thy screen? For thy ill life what blame on me recoils?" When o'er it he had paus'd, my master spake: "Say who wast thou, that at so many points Breath'st out with blood thy lamentable speech?" He answer'd: "Oh, ye spirits: arriv'd in time To spy the shameful havoc, that from me My leaves hath sever'd thus, gather them up, And at the foot of their sad parent-tree Carefully lay them. In that city' I dwelt, Who for the Baptist her first patron chang'd, Whence he for this shall cease not with his art To work her woe: and if there still remain'd not On Arno's passage some faint glimpse of him, Those citizens, who rear'd once more her walls Upon the ashes left by Attila, Had labour'd without profit of their toil. I slung the fatal noose from my own roof." ## CANTO XIV SOON as the charity of native land Wrought in my bosom, I the scatter'd leaves Collected, and to him restor'd, who now Was hoarse with utt'rance. To the limit thence We came, which from the third the second round Divides, and where of justice is display'd Contrivance horrible. Things then first seen Clearlier to manifest, I tell how next A plain we reach'd, that from its sterile bed Each plant repell'd. The mournful wood waves round Its garland on all sides, as round the wood Spreads the sad foss. There, on the very edge, Our steps we stay'd. It was an area wide Of arid sand and thick, resembling most The soil that erst by Cato's foot was trod. Vengeance of Heav'n! Oh ! how shouldst thou be fear'd By all, who read what here my eyes beheld! Of naked spirits many a flock I saw, All weeping piteously, to different laws Subjected: for on the' earth some lay supine, Some crouching close were seated, others pac'd Incessantly around; the latter tribe, More numerous, those fewer who beneath The torment lay, but louder in their grief. O'er all the sand fell slowly wafting down Dilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snow On Alpine summit, when the wind is hush'd. As in the torrid Indian clime, the son Of Ammon saw upon his warrior band Descending, solid flames, that to the ground Came down: whence he bethought him with his troop To trample on the soil; for easier thus The vapour was extinguish'd, while alone; So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewith The marble glow'd underneath, as under stove The viands, doubly to augment the pain. Unceasing was the play of wretched hands, Now this, now that way glancing, to shake off The heat, still falling fresh. I thus began: "Instructor! thou who all things overcom'st, Except the hardy demons, that rush'd forth To stop our entrance at the gate, say who Is yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds not The burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn, As by the sultry tempest immatur'd?" Straight he himself, who was aware I ask'd My guide of him, exclaim'd: "Such as I was When living, dead such now I am. If Jove Weary his workman out, from whom in ire He snatch'd the lightnings, that at my last day Transfix'd me, if the rest be weary out At their black smithy labouring by turns In Mongibello, while he cries aloud; "Help, help, good Mulciber!" as erst he cried In the Phlegraean warfare, and the bolts Launch he full aim'd at me with all his might, He never should enjoy a sweet revenge." Then thus my guide, in accent higher rais'd Than I before had heard him: "Capaneus! Thou art more punish'd, in that this thy pride Lives yet unquench'd: no torrent, save thy rage, Were to thy fury pain proportion'd full." Next turning round to me with milder lip He spake: "This of the seven kings was one, Who girt the Theban walls with siege, and held, As still he seems to hold, God in disdain, And sets his high omnipotence at nought. But, as I told him, his despiteful mood Is ornament well suits the breast that wears it. Follow me now; and look thou set not yet Thy foot in the hot sand, but to the wood Keep ever close." Silently on we pass'd To where there gushes from the forest's bound A little brook, whose crimson'd wave yet lifts My hair with horror. As the rill, that runs From Bulicame, to be portion'd out Among the sinful women; so ran this Down through the sand, its bottom and each bank Stone-built, and either margin at its side, Whereon I straight perceiv'd our passage lay. "Of all that I have shown thee, since that gate We enter'd first, whose threshold is to none Denied, nought else so worthy of regard, As is this river, has thine eye discern'd, O'er which the flaming volley all is quench'd." So spake my guide; and I him thence besought, That having giv'n me appetite to know, The food he too would give, that hunger crav'd. "In midst of ocean," forthwith he began, "A desolate country lies, which Crete is nam'd, Under whose monarch in old times the world Liv'd pure and chaste. A mountain rises there, Call'd Ida, joyous once with leaves and streams, Deserted now like a forbidden thing. It was the spot which Rhea, Saturn's spouse, Chose for the secret cradle of her son; And better to conceal him, drown'd in shouts His infant cries. Within the mount, upright An ancient form there stands and huge, that turns His shoulders towards Damiata, and at Rome As in his mirror looks. Of finest gold His head is shap'd, pure silver are the breast And arms; thence to the middle is of brass. And downward all beneath well-temper'd steel, Save the right foot of potter's clay, on which Than on the other more erect he stands, Each part except the gold, is rent throughout; And from the fissure tears distil, which join'd Penetrate to that cave. They in their course Thus far precipitated down the rock Form Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon; Then by this straiten'd channel passing hence Beneath, e'en to the lowest depth of all, Form there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyself Shall see it) I here give thee no account." Then I to him: "If from our world this sluice Be thus deriv'd; wherefore to us but now Appears it at this edge?" He straight replied: "The place, thou know'st, is round; and though great part Thou have already pass'd, still to the left Descending to the nethermost, not yet Hast thou the circuit made of the whole orb. Wherefore if aught of new to us appear, It needs not bring up wonder in thy looks." Then I again inquir'd: "Where flow the streams Of Phlegethon and Lethe? for of one Thou tell'st not, and the other of that shower, Thou say'st, is form'd." He answer thus return'd: "Doubtless thy questions all well pleas'd I hear. Yet the red seething wave might have resolv'd One thou proposest. Lethe thou shalt see, But not within this hollow, in the place, Whither to lave themselves the spirits go, Whose blame hath been by penitence remov'd." He added: "Time is now we quit the wood. Look thou my steps pursue: the margins give Safe passage, unimpeded by the flames; For over them all vapour is extinct." ## CANTO XV One of the solid margins bears us now Envelop'd in the mist, that from the stream Arising, hovers o'er, and saves from fire Both piers and water. As the Flemings rear Their mound, 'twixt Ghent and Bruges, to chase back The ocean, fearing his tumultuous tide That drives toward them, or the Paduans theirs Along the Brenta, to defend their towns And castles, ere the genial warmth be felt On Chiarentana's top; such were the mounds, So fram'd, though not in height or bulk to these Made equal, by the master, whosoe'er He was, that rais'd them here. We from the wood Were not so far remov'd, that turning round I might not have discern'd it, when we met A troop of spirits, who came beside the pier. They each one ey'd us, as at eventide One eyes another under a new moon, And toward us sharpen'd their sight as keen, As an old tailor at his needle's eye. Thus narrowly explor'd by all the tribe, I was agniz'd of one, who by the skirt Caught me, and cried, "What wonder have we here!" And I, when he to me outstretch'd his arm, Intently fix'd my ken on his parch'd looks, That although smirch'd with fire, they hinder'd not But I remember'd him; and towards his face My hand inclining, answer'd: "Sir! Brunetto! And art thou here?" He thus to me: "My son! Oh let it not displease thee, if Brunetto Latini but a little space with thee Turn back, and leave his fellows to proceed." I thus to him replied: "Much as I can, I thereto pray thee; and if thou be willing, That I here seat me with thee, I consent; His leave, with whom I journey, first obtain'd." "O son!" said he, " whoever of this throng One instant stops, lies then a hundred years, No fan to ventilate him, when the fire Smites sorest. Pass thou therefore on. I close Will at thy garments walk, and then rejoin My troop, who go mourning their endless doom." I dar'd not from the path descend to tread On equal ground with him, but held my head Bent down, as one who walks in reverent guise. "What chance or destiny," thus be began, "Ere the last day conducts thee here below? And who is this, that shows to thee the way?" "There up aloft," I answer'd, "in the life Serene, I wander'd in a valley lost, Before mine age had to its fullness reach'd. But yester-morn I left it: then once more Into that vale returning, him I met; And by this path homeward he leads me back." "If thou," he answer'd, "follow but thy star, Thou canst not miss at last a glorious haven: Unless in fairer days my judgment err'd. And if my fate so early had not chanc'd, Seeing the heav'ns thus bounteous to thee, I Had gladly giv'n thee comfort in thy work. But that ungrateful and malignant race, Who in old times came down from Fesole, Ay and still smack of their rough mountain-flint, Will for thy good deeds shew thee enmity. Nor wonder; for amongst ill-savour'd crabs It suits not the sweet fig-tree lay her fruit. Old fame reports them in the world for blind, Covetous, envious, proud. Look to it well: Take heed thou cleanse thee of their ways. For thee Thy fortune hath such honour in reserve, That thou by either party shalt be crav'd With hunger keen: but be the fresh herb far From the goat's tooth. The herd of Fesole May of themselves make litter, not touch the plant, If any such yet spring on their rank bed, In which the holy seed revives, transmitted From those true Romans, who still there remain'd, When it was made the nest of so much ill." "Were all my wish fulfill'd," I straight replied, "Thou from the confines of man's nature yet Hadst not been driven forth; for in my mind Is fix'd, and now strikes full upon my heart The dear, benign, paternal image, such As thine was, when so lately thou didst teach me The way for man to win eternity; And how I priz'd the lesson, it behooves, That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak, What of my fate thou tell'st, that write I down: And with another text to comment on For her I keep it, the celestial dame, Who will know all, if I to her arrive. This only would I have thee clearly note: That so my conscience have no plea against me; Do fortune as she list, I stand prepar'd. Not new or strange such earnest to mine ear. Speed fortune then her wheel, as likes her best, The clown his mattock; all things have their course." Thereat my sapient guide upon his right Turn'd himself back, then look'd at me and spake: "He listens to good purpose who takes note." I not the less still on my way proceed, Discoursing with Brunetto, and inquire Who are most known and chief among his tribe. "To know of some is well;" thus he replied, "But of the rest silence may best beseem. Time would not serve us for report so long. In brief I tell thee, that all these were clerks, Men of great learning and no less renown, By one same sin polluted in the world. With them is Priscian, and Accorso's son Francesco herds among that wretched throng: And, if the wish of so impure a blotch Possess'd thee, him thou also might'st have seen, Who by the servants' servant was transferr'd From Arno's seat to Bacchiglione, where His ill-strain'd nerves he left. I more would add, But must from farther speech and onward way Alike desist, for yonder I behold A mist new-risen on the sandy plain. A company, with whom I may not sort, Approaches. I commend my TREASURE to thee, Wherein I yet survive; my sole request." This said he turn'd, and seem'd as one of those, Who o'er Verona's champain try their speed For the green mantle, and of them he seem'd, Not he who loses but who gains the prize. ## CANTO XVI NOW came I where the water's din was heard, As down it fell into the other round, Resounding like the hum of swarming bees: When forth together issu'd from a troop, That pass'd beneath the fierce tormenting storm, Three spirits, running swift. They towards us came, And each one cried aloud, "Oh do thou stay! Whom by the fashion of thy garb we deem To be some inmate of our evil land." Ah me! what wounds I mark'd upon their limbs, Recent and old, inflicted by the flames! E'en the remembrance of them grieves me yet. Attentive to their cry my teacher paus'd, And turn'd to me his visage, and then spake; "Wait now! our courtesy these merit well: And were 't not for the nature of the place, Whence glide the fiery darts, I should have said, That haste had better suited thee than them.'' They, when we stopp'd, resum'd their ancient wail, And soon as they had reach'd us, all the three Whirl'd round together in one restless wheel. As naked champions, smear'd with slippery oil, Are wont intent to watch their place of hold And vantage, ere in closer strife they meet; Thus each one, as he wheel'd, his countenance At me directed, so that opposite The neck mov'd ever to the twinkling feet. "If misery of this drear wilderness," Thus one began, "added to our sad cheer And destitute, do call forth scorn on us And our entreaties, let our great renown Incline thee to inform us who thou art, That dost imprint with living feet unharm'd The soil of Hell. He, in whose track thou see'st My steps pursuing, naked though he be And reft of all, was of more high estate Than thou believest; grandchild of the chaste Gualdrada, him they Guidoguerra call'd, Who in his lifetime many a noble act Achiev'd, both by his wisdom and his sword. The other, next to me that beats the sand, Is Aldobrandi, name deserving well, In the' upper world, of honour; and myself Who in this torment do partake with them, Am Rusticucci, whom, past doubt, my wife Of savage temper, more than aught beside Hath to this evil brought." If from the fire I had been shelter'd, down amidst them straight I then had cast me, nor my guide, I deem, Would have restrain'd my going; but that fear Of the dire burning vanquish'd the desire, Which made me eager of their wish'd embrace. I then began: "Not scorn, but grief much more, Such as long time alone can cure, your doom Fix'd deep within me, soon as this my lord Spake words, whose tenour taught me to expect That such a race, as ye are, was at hand. I am a countryman of yours, who still Affectionate have utter'd, and have heard Your deeds and names renown'd. Leaving the gall For the sweet fruit I go, that a sure guide Hath promis'd to me. But behooves, that far As to the centre first I downward tend." "So may long space thy spirit guide thy limbs," He answer straight return'd; "and so thy fame Shine bright, when thou art gone; as thou shalt tell, If courtesy and valour, as they wont, Dwell in our city, or have vanish'd clean? For one amidst us late condemn'd to wail, Borsiere, yonder walking with his peers, Grieves us no little by the news he brings." "An upstart multitude and sudden gains, Pride and excess, O Florence! have in thee Engender'd, so that now in tears thou mourn'st!" Thus cried I with my face uprais'd, and they All three, who for an answer took my words, Look'd at each other, as men look when truth Comes to their ear. "If thou at other times," They all at once rejoin'd, "so easily Satisfy those, who question, happy thou, Gifted with words, so apt to speak thy thought! Wherefore if thou escape this darksome clime, Returning to behold the radiant stars, When thou with pleasure shalt retrace the past, See that of us thou speak among mankind." This said, they broke the circle, and so swift Fled, that as pinions seem'd their nimble feet. Not in so short a time might one have said "Amen," as they had vanish'd. Straight my guide Pursu'd his track. I follow'd; and small space Had we pass'd onward, when the water's sound Was now so near at hand, that we had scarce Heard one another's speech for the loud din. E'en as the river, that holds on its course Unmingled, from the mount of Vesulo, On the left side of Apennine, toward The east, which Acquacheta higher up They call, ere it descend into the vale, At Forli by that name no longer known, Rebellows o'er Saint Benedict, roll'd on From the' Alpine summit down a precipice, Where space enough to lodge a thousand spreads; Thus downward from a craggy steep we found, That this dark wave resounded, roaring loud, So that the ear its clamour soon had stunn'd. I had a cord that brac'd my girdle round, Wherewith I erst had thought fast bound to take The painted leopard. This when I had all Unloosen'd from me (so my master bade) I gather'd up, and stretch'd it forth to him. Then to the right he turn'd, and from the brink Standing few paces distant, cast it down Into the deep abyss. "And somewhat strange," Thus to myself I spake, "signal so strange Betokens, which my guide with earnest eye Thus follows." Ah! what caution must men use With those who look not at the deed alone, But spy into the thoughts with subtle skill! "Quickly shall come," he said, "what I expect, Thine eye discover quickly, that whereof Thy thought is dreaming." Ever to that truth, Which but the semblance of a falsehood wears, A man, if possible, should bar his lip; Since, although blameless, he incurs reproach. But silence here were vain; and by these notes Which now I sing, reader! I swear to thee, So may they favour find to latest times! That through the gross and murky air I spied A shape come swimming up, that might have quell'd The stoutest heart with wonder, in such guise As one returns, who hath been down to loose An anchor grappled fast against some rock, Or to aught else that in the salt wave lies, Who upward springing close draws in his feet. ## CANTO XVII "LO! the fell monster 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 pouch 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 purse I saw with azure wrought, That wore a lion's countenance and port. Then still my sight pursuing its career, Another I beheld, than blood more red. A goose display of whiter wing than curd. And one, who bore a fat and azure swine 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 Vitaliano on my left shall sit. A Paduan with these Florentines am I. Ofttimes they thunder in mine ears, exclaiming "O haste that noble knight! 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 That licks his nostrils. I, lest longer stay He ill might brook, who bade me stay not long, Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn'd. My guide already seated on the haunch Of the fierce animal I found; and thus He me encourag'd. "Be thou stout; be bold. Down such a steep flight must we now descend! Mount thou before: for that no power the tail May have to harm thee, I will be i' th' midst." As one, who hath an ague fit so near, His nails already are turn'd blue, and he Quivers all o'er, if he but eye the shade; Such was my cheer at hearing of his words. But shame soon interpos'd her threat, who makes The servant bold in presence of his lord. I settled me upon those shoulders huge, And would have said, but that the words to aid My purpose came not, "Look thou clasp me firm!" But he whose succour then not first I prov'd, Soon as I mounted, in his arms aloft, Embracing, held me up, and thus he spake: "Geryon! now move thee! be thy wheeling gyres Of ample circuit, easy thy descent. Think on th' unusual burden thou sustain'st." As a small vessel, back'ning out from land, Her station quits; so thence the monster loos'd, And when he felt himself at large, turn'd round There where the breast had been, his forked tail. Thus, like an eel, outstretch'd at length he steer'd, Gath'ring the air up with retractile claws. Not greater was the dread when Phaeton The reins let drop at random, whence high heaven, Whereof signs yet appear, was wrapt in flames; Nor when ill-fated Icarus perceiv'd, By liquefaction of the scalded wax, The trusted pennons loosen'd from his loins, His sire exclaiming loud, "Ill way thou keep'st!" Than was my dread, when round me on each part The air I view'd, and other object none Save the fell beast. He slowly sailing, wheels His downward motion, unobserv'd of me, But that the wind, arising to my face, Breathes on me from below. Now on our right I heard the cataract beneath us leap With hideous crash; whence bending down to' explore, New terror I conceiv'd at the steep plunge: For flames I saw, and wailings smote mine ear: So that all trembling close I crouch'd my limbs, And then distinguish'd, unperceiv'd before, By the dread torments that on every side Drew nearer, how our downward course we wound. As falcon, that hath long been on the wing, But lure nor bird hath seen, while in despair The falconer cries, "Ah me! thou stoop'st to earth!" Wearied descends, and swiftly down the sky In many an orbit wheels, then lighting sits At distance from his lord in angry mood; So Geryon lighting places us on foot Low down at base of the deep-furrow'd rock, And, of his burden there discharg'd, forthwith Sprang forward, like an arrow from the string. Next Volume

    *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, VISION OF HELL, DANTE, V6 ***

    ******* This file should be named hel0610h.htm or hel0610h.zip ******

    Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, hel0611h.htm
    VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, hel0610ha.htm

    This eBook was produced by David Widger

    Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
    editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US
    unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we usually do not
    keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

    We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance
    of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
    Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections,
    even years after the official publication date.

    Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til
    midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
    The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at
    Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
    preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
    and editing by those who wish to do so.

    Most people start at our Web sites at:
    http://gutenberg.net or
    http://promo.net/pg

    These Web sites include award-winning information about Project
    Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new
    eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!).

    Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement
    can get to them as follows, and just download by date.  This is
    also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
    indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
    announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.

    http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or
    ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03

    Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90

    Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
    as it appears in our Newsletters.

    Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)

    We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
    time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
    to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
    searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.   Our
    projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If the value
    per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
    million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text
    files per month:  1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+
    We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002
    If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
    will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end.

    The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks!
    This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
    which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.

    Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated):

    eBooks Year Month

        1  1971 July
       10  1991 January
      100  1994 January
     1000  1997 August
     1500  1998 October
     2000  1999 December
     2500  2000 December
     3000  2001 November
     4000  2001 October/November
     6000  2002 December*
     9000  2003 November*
    10000  2004 January*

    The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created
    to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium.

    We need your donations more than ever!

    As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people
    and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut,
    Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois,
    Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts,
    Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New
    Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio,
    Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South
    Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West
    Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.

    We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones
    that have responded.

    As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list
    will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states.
    Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state.

    In answer to various questions we have received on this:

    We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally
    request donations in all 50 states.  If your state is not listed and
    you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have,
    just ask.

    While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are
    not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting
    donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to
    donate.

    International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about
    how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made
    deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are
    ways.

    Donations by check or money order may be sent to:

    Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
    PMB 113
    1739 University Ave.
    Oxford, MS 38655-4109

    Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment
    method other than by check or money order.

    The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by
    the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN
    [Employee Identification Number] 64-622154.  Donations are
    tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law.  As fund-raising
    requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be
    made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states.

    We need your donations more than ever!

    You can get up to date donation information online at:

    http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html

    ***

    If you can't reach Project Gutenberg,
    you can always email directly to:

    Michael S. Hart [hart@pobox.com]

    Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message.

    We would prefer to send you information by email.

    **The Legal Small Print**

    (Three Pages)

    ***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START***
    Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
    They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
    your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from
    someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
    fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
    disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
    you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to.

    *BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK
    By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
    eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
    this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
    a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by
    sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
    you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical
    medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.

    ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS
    This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks,
    is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
    through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
    Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
    on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
    distribute it in the United States without permission and
    without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
    below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook
    under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.

    Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
    any commercial products without permission.

    To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable
    efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
    works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any
    medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
    things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
    corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
    intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
    disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer
    codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

    LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
    But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
    [1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
    receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims
    all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
    legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
    UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
    INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
    OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
    POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.

    If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of
    receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
    you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
    time to the person you received it from. If you received it
    on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
    such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
    copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
    choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
    receive it electronically.

    THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
    WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
    TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
    LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
    PARTICULAR PURPOSE.

    Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
    the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
    above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
    may have other legal rights.

    INDEMNITY
    You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
    and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
    with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
    texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
    legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
    following that you do or cause:  [1] distribution of this eBook,
    [2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook,
    or [3] any Defect.

    DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
    You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by
    disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
    "Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
    or:

    [1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
         requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
         eBook or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
         if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable
         binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
         including any form resulting from conversion by word
         processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
         *EITHER*:

         [*]  The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
              does *not* contain characters other than those
              intended by the author of the work, although tilde
              (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
              be used to convey punctuation intended by the
              author, and additional characters may be used to
              indicate hypertext links; OR

         [*]  The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at
              no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
              form by the program that displays the eBook (as is
              the case, for instance, with most word processors);
              OR

         [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
              no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
              eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
              or other equivalent proprietary form).

    [2]  Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this
         "Small Print!" statement.

    [3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
         gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
         already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
         don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
         payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
         the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
         legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
         periodic) tax return.  Please contact us beforehand to
         let us know your plans and to work out the details.

    WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
    Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
    public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
    in machine readable form.

    The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
    public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
    Money should be paid to the:
    "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

    If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
    software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
    hart@pobox.com

    [Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only
    when distributed free of all fees.  Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by
    Michael S. Hart.  Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be
    used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be
    they hardware or software or any other related product without
    express permission.]

    *END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END*