  The place of our descent Precipitous, and there was something more From sight of which all eyes had turned away. As at the ruin which upon the shore Of Adige Through earthquake or by slip of what before Upheld it—from the summit whence it went Far as the plain, the shattered rocks supply Some sort of foothold to who makes descent; Such was the passage down the precipice high. And on the riven gully’s very brow Lay spread at large the Cretan Infamy Us when he saw, he bit himself for rage Like one whose anger gnaws him through and through. ‘Perhaps thou deemest,’ called to him the Sage, ‘This is the Duke of Athens Who war to the death with thee on earth did wage. Begone, thou brute, for this one passing by Untutored by thy sister has thee found, And only comes thy sufferings to spy,’ And as the bull which snaps what held it bound On being smitten by the fatal blow, Halts in its course, and reels upon the ground, The Minotaur I saw reel to and fro; And he, the alert, cried: ‘To the passage haste; While yet he chafes ’twere well thou down shouldst go.’ So we descended by the slippery waste Of shivered stones which many a time gave way ’Neath the new weight I musing went; and he began to say: ‘Perchance this ruined slope thou thinkest on, Watched by the brute rage I did now allay. But I would have thee know, when I came down The former time The cliff had not this ruin undergone. Ere He appeared who wrenched great prey from Dis From out the upmost circle. Trembling fell Through all its parts the nauseous abyss With such a violence, the world, I thought, Was stirred by love; for, as they say, by this She back to Chaos And then it was this ancient rampart strong Was shattered here and at another spot. But toward the valley look. We come ere long Down to the river of blood All who by violence work others wrong.’ O insane rage! O blind cupidity! By which in our brief life we are so spurred, Ere downward plunged in evil case for aye! An ample ditch I now beheld engird And sweep in circle all around the plain, As from my Escort I had lately heard. Between this and the rock in single train Centaurs As if they hunted on the earth again. Save three of them who parted from the band With bow, and arrows they in coming chose. ‘What torment,’ from afar one made demand, ‘Come ye to share, who now descend the hill? I shoot unless ye answer whence ye stand.’ My Master said: ‘We yield no answer till We come to Chiron But thy quick temper always served thee ill.’ Then touching me: ‘’Tis Nessus; With love for beauteous Dejanire possessed, And who himself his own vendetta plied. He in the middle, staring on his breast, Is mighty Chiron, who Achilles bred; And next the wrathful Pholus. They invest The fosse and in their thousands round it tread, Shooting whoever from the blood shall lift, More than his crime allows, his guilty head.’ As we moved nearer to those creatures swift Chiron drew forth a shaft and dressed his beard Back on his jaws, using the arrow’s cleft. And when his ample mouth of hair was cleared, He said to his companions: ‘Have ye seen The things the second touches straight are stirred, As they by feet of shades could ne’er have been?’ < |
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