The many folk and wounds of divers kind Had flushed mine eyes and set them on the flow, Till I to weep and linger had a mind; But Virgil said to me: ‘Why gazing so? Why still thy vision fastening on the crew Of dismal shades dismembered there below? Thou didst not Think, if to count them be thine enterprise, The valley circles twenty miles and two. The time And greater things than these await thine eyes.’ I answered swift: ‘Hadst thou but given heed To why it was my looks were downward bent, To yet more stay thou mightest have agreed.’ My Guide meanwhile was moving, and I went Behind him and continued to reply, Adding: ‘Within the moat on which intent I now was gazing with such eager eye I trow a spirit weeps, one of my kin, The crime whose guilt is rated there so high.’ Then said the Master: ‘Henceforth hold thou in Thy thoughts from wandering to him: new things claim Attention now, so leave him with his sin. Him saw I at thee from the bridge-foot aim A threatening finger, while he made thee known; Geri del Bello Engrossed who once held Hautefort, Didst look at where he was; so passed he on.’ ‘O Leader mine! death violent and base, And not avenged as yet,’ I made reply, ‘By any of his partners in disgrace, Made him disdainful; therefore went he by And spake not with me, if I judge aright; Which does the more my ruth So we conversed till from the cliff we might Of the next valley have had prospect good Down to the bottom, with but clearer light. When we above the inmost Cloister stood Of Malebolge, and discerned the crew Of such as there compose the Brotherhood, And barbed with pity all the shafts were sped— My open palms across my ears I drew. From Valdichiana’s All ailments to September from July, With all in Maremma and Sardinia Heaped in one pit a sickness might supply Like what was here; and from it rose a stink Like that which comes from limbs that putrefy. Then we descended by the utmost brink Of the long ridge Until my vision, quickened now, could sink Deeper to where Justice infallible, The minister of the Almighty Lord, Chastises forgers doomed on earth Ægina And all the air was so with sickness stored, Down to the very worms creation failed And died, whereon the pristine folk once more, As by the poets is for certain held, From seed of ants their family did restore), Than what was offered by that valley black With plague-struck spirits heaped upon the floor. Supine some lay, each on the other’s back Or stomach; and some crawled with crouching gait For change of place along the doleful track. Speechless we moved with step deliberate, With eyes and ears on those disease crushed down Nor left them power to lift their bodies straight. I saw two sit, shoulder to shoulder thrown As plate holds plate up to be warmed, from head Down to the feet with scurf and scab o’ergrown. Nor ever saw I curry-comb so plied By varlet with his master standing by, Or by one kept unwillingly from bed, As I saw each of these his scratchers ply Upon himself; for nought else now avails Against the itch which plagues them furiously. The scab |