The many people and the divers wounds
These eyes of mine had so inebriated,
That they were wishful to stand still
and weep;
But said Virgilius: “What dost thou still
gaze at?
Why is thy sight still riveted down there
Among the mournful, mutilated shades?
Thou hast not done so at the other Bolge;
Consider, if to count them thou believest,
That two-and-twenty miles the valley winds,
And now the moon is underneath our feet;
Henceforth the time allotted us is brief,
And more is to be seen than what thou
seest.”
“If thou hadst,” I made answer thereupon,
“Attended to the cause for which
I looked,
Perhaps a longer stay thou wouldst have
pardoned.”
Meanwhile my Guide departed, and behind him
I went, already making my reply,
And superadding: “In that cavern
where
I held mine eyes with such attention fixed,
I think a spirit of my blood laments
The sin which down below there costs so
much.”
Then said the Master: “Be no longer broken
Thy thought from this time forward upon
him;
Attend elsewhere, and there let him remain;
For him I saw below the little bridge,
Pointing at thee, and threatening with
his finger
Fiercely, and heard him called Geri del
Bello.
So wholly at that time wast thou impeded
By him who formerly held Altaforte,
Thou didst not look that way; so he departed.”
“O my Conductor, his own violent death,
Which is not yet avenged for him,”
I said,
“By any who is sharer in the shame,
Made him disdainful; whence he went away,
As I imagine, without speaking to me,
And thereby made me pity him the more.”
Thus did we speak as far as the first place
Upon the crag, which the next valley shows
Down to the bottom, if there were more
light.
When we were now right over the last cloister
Of Malebolge, so that its lay-brothers
Could manifest themselves unto our sight,
Divers lamentings pierced me through and through,
Which with compassion had their arrows
barbed,
Whereat mine ears I covered with my hands.
What pain would be, if from the hospitals
Of Valdichiana, ’twixt July and
September,
And of Maremma and Sardinia
All the diseases in one moat were gathered,
Such was it here, and such a stench came
from it
As from putrescent limbs is wont to issue.
We had descended on the furthest bank
From the long crag, upon the left hand
still,
And then more vivid was my power of sight
Down tow’rds the bottom, where the ministress
Of the high Lord, Justice infallible,
Punishes forgers, which she here records.
I do not think a sadder sight to see
Was in Aegina the whole people sick,
(When was the air so full of pestilence,
The animals, down to the little worm,
All fell, and afterwards the ancient people,
According as the poets have affirmed,
Were from the seed of ants restored again,)
Than was it to behold through that dark
valley
The spirits languishing in divers heaps.
This on the belly, that upon the back
One of the other lay, and others crawling
Shifted themselves along the dismal road.
We step by step went onward without speech,
Gazing upon and listening to the sick
Who had not strength enough to lift their
bodies.
I saw two sitting leaned against each other,
As leans in heating platter against platter,
From head to foot bespotted o’er
with scabs;
And never saw I plied a currycomb
By stable-boy for whom his master waits,
Or him who keeps awake unwillingly,
As every one was plying fast the bite
Of nails upon himself, for the great rage
Of itching which no other succour had.
And the nails downward with them dragged the scab,
In fashion as a knife the scales of bream,
Or any other fish that has them largest.
“O thou, that with thy fingers dost dismail
thee,”
Began my Leader unto one of them,
“And makest of them pincers now
and then,
Tell me if any Latian is with those
Who are herein; so may thy nails suffice
thee
To all eternity unto this work.”
“Latians are we, whom thou so wasted seest,
Both of us here,” one weeping made
reply;
“But who art thou, that questionest
about us?”
And said the Guide: “One am I who descends
Down with this living man from cliff to
cliff,
And I intend to show Hell unto him.”
Then broken was their mutual support,
And trembling each one turned himself
to me,
With others who had heard him by rebound.
Wholly to me did the good Master gather,
Saying: “Say unto them whate’er
thou wishest.”
And I began, since he would have it so:
“So may your memory not steal away
In the first world from out the minds
of men,
But so may it survive ’neath many
suns,
Say to me who ye are, and of what people;
Let not your foul and loathsome punishment
Make you afraid to show yourselves to
me.”
“I of Arezzo was,” one made reply,
“And Albert of Siena had me burned;
But what I died for does not bring me
here.
’Tis true I said to him, speaking in jest,
That I could rise by flight into the air,
And he who had conceit, but little wit,
Would have me show to him the art; and only
Because no Daedalus I made him, made me
Be burned by one who held him as his son.
But unto the last Bolgia of the ten,
For alchemy, which in the world I practised,
Minos, who cannot err, has me condemned.”
And to the Poet said I: “Now was ever
So vain a people as the Sienese?
Not for a certainty the French by far.”
Whereat the other leper, who had heard me,
Replied unto my speech: “Taking
out Stricca,
Who knew the art of moderate expenses,
And Niccolo, who the luxurious use
Of cloves discovered earliest of all
Within that garden where such seed takes
root;
And taking out the band, among whom squandered
Caccia d’Ascian his vineyards and
vast woods,
And where his wit the Abbagliato proffered!
But, that thou know who thus doth second thee
Against the Sienese, make sharp thine
eye
Tow’rds me, so that my face well
answer thee,
And thou shalt see I am Capocchio’s shade,
Who metals falsified by alchemy;
Thou must remember, if I well descry thee,
How I a skilful ape of nature was.”
