Our website is made possible by displaying online advertisements to our visitors.
Please consider supporting us by disabling your ad blocker.

Download links will be available after you disable the ad blocker and reload the page.

The Divine Comedy by Dante, Illustrated, Hell, Volume 09

Download options:

  • 672.81 KB
  • 1.12 MB




SO were mine eyes inebriate with viewOf the vast multitude, whom various woundsDisfigur'd, that they long'd to stay and weep.But Virgil rous'd me: "What yet gazest on?Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight belowAmong the maim'd and miserable shades?Thou hast not shewn in any chasm besideThis weakness.  Know, if thou wouldst number themThat two and twenty miles the valley windsIts circuit, and already is the moonBeneath our feet: the time permitted nowIs short, and more not seen remains to see.""If thou," I straight replied, "hadst weigh'd the causeFor which I look'd, thou hadst perchance excus'dThe tarrying still."  My leader part pursu'dHis way, the while I follow'd, answering him,And adding thus: "Within that cave I deem,Whereon so fixedly I held my ken,There is a spirit dwells, one of my blood,Wailing the crime that costs him now so dear."Then spake my master: "Let thy soul no moreAfflict itself for him.  Direct elsewhereIts thought, and leave him.  At the bridge's footI mark'd how he did point with menacing lookAt thee, and heard him by the others nam'dGeri of Bello.  Thou so wholly thenWert busied with his spirit, who once rul'dThe towers of Hautefort, that thou lookedst notThat way, ere he was gone."—"O guide belov'd!His violent death yet unaveng'd," said I,"By any, who are partners in his shame,Made him contemptuous: therefore, as I think,He pass'd me speechless by; and doing soHath made me more compassionate his fate."So we discours'd to where the rock first show'dThe other valley, had more light been there,E'en to the lowest depth.  Soon as we cameO'er the last cloister in the dismal roundsOf Malebolge, and the brotherhoodWere to our view expos'd, then many a dartOf sore lament assail'd me, headed allWith points of thrilling pity, that I clos'dBoth ears against the volley with mine hands.As were the torment, if each lazar-houseOf Valdichiana, in the sultry time'Twixt July and September, with the isleSardinia and Maremma's pestilent fen,Had heap'd their maladies all in one fossTogether; such was here the torment: direThe stench, as issuing steams from fester'd limbs.We on the utmost shore of the long rockDescended still to leftward.  Then my sightWas livelier to explore the depth, whereinThe minister of the most mighty Lord,All-searching Justice, dooms to punishmentThe forgers noted on her dread record.More rueful was it not methinks to seeThe nation in Aegina droop, what timeEach living thing, e'en to the little worm,All fell, so full of malice was the air(And afterward, as bards of yore have told,The ancient people were restor'd anewFrom seed of emmets) than was here to seeThe spirits, that languish'd through the murky valeUp-pil'd on many a stack.  Confus'd they lay,One o'er the belly, o'er the shoulders oneRoll'd of another; sideling crawl'd a thirdAlong the dismal pathway.  Step by stepWe journey'd on, in silence looking roundAnd list'ning those diseas'd, who strove in vainTo lift their forms....