‘Behold the monster Who passes mountains Through arms and walls! who makes the whole world ail, Corrupted by him!’ Thus my Leader spake, And beckoned him that he should land hard by, Where short the pathways built of marble break. And that foul image of dishonesty Moving approached us with his head and chest, But to the bank ’Twas so benignant to the outward view; A serpent was he as to all the rest. On both his arms hair to the arm-pits grew: On back and chest and either flank were knot And rounded shield portrayed in various hue; No Turk or Tartar weaver ever brought To ground or pattern a more varied dye; Nor by Arachne As sometimes by the shore the barges lie Partly in water, partly on dry land; And as afar in gluttonous Germany, Watching their prey, alert the beavers stand; So did this worst of brutes his foreparts fling Upon the stony rim which hems the sand. All of his tail in space was quivering, Its poisoned fork erecting in the air, Which scorpion-like was armÈd with a sting. My Leader said: ‘Now we aside must fare A little distance, so shall we attain Unto the beast malignant crouching there.’ So we stepped down upon the right, Thus clearing well the sand and fiery rain. And when we were hard by him I could trace Upon the sand a little further on Some people sitting near to the abyss. ‘That what this belt containeth may be known Completely by thee,’ then the Master said; ‘To see their case do thou advance alone. Let thy inquiries be succinctly made. While thou art absent I will ask of him, With his strong shoulders to afford us aid.’ Then, all alone, I on the outmost rim Of that Seventh Circle still advancing trod, Where sat a woful folk. Their hands moved here and there to win some ease, Now from the flames, now from the soil which glowed. No otherwise in summer-time one sees, Working its muzzle and its paws, the hound When bit by gnats or plagued with flies or fleas. And I, on scanning some who sat around Of those on whom the dolorous flames alight, Could recognise A purse hung from the throat of every wight, Each with its emblem and its special hue; And every eye seemed feasting on the sight. As I, beholding them, among them drew, I saw what seemed a lion’s face and mien Upon a yellow purse designed in blue. Still moving on mine eyes athwart the scene I saw another scrip, blood-red, display A goose more white than butter could have been. And one, on whose white wallet blazoned lay A pregnant sow ‘What dost thou in this pit? Do thou straightway Begone; and, seeing thou art not yet dead, Know that Vitalian, A Paduan I: all these are Florentine; And oft they stun me, bellowing in my ear: “Come, Pink of Chivalry, Whose is the purse on which three beaks appear:”’ Then he from mouth awry his tongue thrust out Like ox that licks its nose; and I, in fear Lest more delay should stir in him some doubt Who gave command I should not linger long, Me from those wearied spirits turned about. I found my Guide, who had already sprung Upon the back of that fierce animal: |