Could any, even in words unclogged by rhyme Recount the wounds that now I saw, Although he aimed at it time after time? Here every tongue must fail of what it would, Because our human speech and powers of thought To grasp so much come short in aptitude. If all the people were together brought Who in Apulia, Made lamentation for the bloodshed wrought By Rome; When the large booty of the rings was won, As Livy writes whose every word has weight; With those on whom such direful deeds were done And those of whom still turns up many a bone At Ceperan, In faith; and those at Tagliacozzo Where old Alardo, not by arms, prevailed; And each his wounds and mutilations showed, Yet would they far behind by those be left Who had the vile Ninth Bolgia for abode. No cask, of middle stave or end bereft, E’er gaped like one I saw the rest among, Slit from the chin all downward to the cleft. The pluck and that foul bag were evident Which changes what is swallowed into dung. And while I gazed upon him all intent, Opening his breast his eyes on me he set, Saying: ‘Behold, how by myself I’m rent! See how dismembered now is Mahomet! Ali With visage from the chin to forelock split. By all the others whom thou seest there grew Scandal and schism while yet they breathed the day; Because of which they now are cloven through. There stands behind a devil on the way, Us with his sword thus cruelly to trim: He cleaves again each of our company As soon as we complete the circuit grim; Because the wounds of each are healed outright Or e’er anew he goes in front of him. But who art thou that peerest from the height, It may be putting off to reach the pain Which shall the crimes confessed by thee requite?’ ‘Death has not seized him yet, nor is he ta’en To torment for his sins,’ my Master said; ‘But, that he may a full experience gain, By me, a ghost, ’tis doomed he should be led And what I tell thee is the truth indeed.’ A hundred shades and more, to whom the sound Had reached, stood in the moat to mark me well, Their pangs forgot; so did the words astound. ‘Let Fra Dolcin Thou, who perchance ere long shalt sunward go— Unless he soon would join me in this Hell, Much food, lest aided by the siege of snow The Novarese should o’er him victory get, Which otherwise to win they would be slow.’ While this was said to me by Mahomet One foot he held uplifted; to the ground He let it fall, and so he forward set Next, one whose throat was gaping with a wound, Whose nose up to the brows away was sheared And on whose head a single ear was found, At me, with all the others, wondering peered; And, ere the rest, an open windpipe made, The outside of it all with crimson smeared. ‘And whom I sure on Latian ground did know Unless by strong similitude betrayed, Upon Pier da Medicin A thought, shouldst thou revisit the sweet plain That from Vercelli And make thou known to Fano’s worthiest twain— To Messer Guido and to Angiolel— They, unless foresight here be wholly vain, Thrown overboard in gyve and manacle Shall drown fast by Cattolica, as planned By treachery of a tyrant fierce and fell. Between Majolica A blacker crime did Neptune never spy By pirates wrought, or |