第 27 节

vent thy rage, if rage Or other passion wring thee. Search thy neck, There shalt thou find the belt that binds it on. Wild spirit! lo, upon thy mighty breast Where hangs the baldrick!” Then to me he spake: “He doth accuse himself. Nimrod is this, Through whose ill counsel in the world no more One tongue prevails. But pass we on, nor waste Our words; for so each language is to him, As his to others, understood by none.”

Then to the leftward turning sped we forth, And at a sling’s throw found another shade Far fiercer and more huge. I cannot say What master hand had girt him; but he held Behind the right arm fetter’d, and before The other with a chain, that fasten’d him From the neck down, and five times round his form Apparent met the wreathed links. “This proud one Would of his strength against almighty Jove Make trial,” said my guide; “whence he is thus Requited: Ephialtes him they call.

“Great was his prowess, when the giants brought Fear on the gods: those arms, which then he piled, Now moves he never.” Forthwith I return’d: “Fain would I, if ’t were possible, mine eyes Of Briareus immeasurable gain’d Experience next.” He answer’d: “Thou shalt see Not far from hence Antaeus, who both speaks And is unfetter’d, who shall place us there Where guilt is at its depth. Far onward stands Whom thou wouldst fain behold, in chains, and made Like to this spirit, save that in his looks More fell he seems.” By violent earthquake rock’d Ne’er shook a tow’r, so reeling to its base, As Ephialtes. More than ever then I dreaded death, nor than the terror more Had needed, if I had not seen the cords That held him fast. We, straightway journeying on, Came to Antaeus, who five ells complete Without the head, forth issued from the cave.

“O thou, who in the fortunate vale, that made Great Scipio heir of glory, when his sword Drove back the troop of Hannibal in flight, Who thence of old didst carry for thy spoil An hundred lions; and if thou hadst fought In the high conflict on thy brethren’s side, Seems as men yet believ’d, that through thine arm The sons of earth had conquer’d, now vouchsafe To place us down beneath, where numbing cold Locks up Cocytus. Force not that we crave Or Tityus’ help or Typhon’s. Here is one Can give what in this realm ye covet. Stoop Therefore, nor scornfully distort thy lip. He in the upper world can yet bestow Renown on thee, for he doth live, and looks For life yet longer, if before the time Grace call him not unto herself.” Thus spake The teacher. He in haste forth stretch’d his hands, And caught my guide. Alcides whilom felt That grapple straighten’d score. Soon as my guide Had felt it, he bespake me thus: “This way That I may clasp thee;” then so caught me up, That we were both one burden. As appears The tower of Carisenda, from beneath Where it doth lean, if chance a passing cloud So sail across, that opposite it hangs, Such then Antaeus seem’d, as at mine ease I mark’d him stooping. I were fain at times T’ have pass’d another way. Yet in th’ abyss, That Lucifer with Judas low ingulfs, lightly he plac’d us; nor there leaning stay’d, But rose as in a bark the stately mast.

CANTO XXXII

Could I command rough rhimes and hoarse, to suit That hole of sorrow, o’er which ev’ry rock His firm abutment rears, then might the vein Of fancy rise full springing: but not mine Such measures, and with falt’ring awe I touch The mighty theme; for to describe the depth Of all the universe, is no emprize To jest with, and demands a tongue not us’d To infant babbling. But let them assist My song, the tuneful maidens, by whose aid Amphion wall’d in Thebes, so with the truth My speech shall best accord. Oh ill-starr’d folk, Beyond all others wretched! who abide In such a mansion, as scarce thought finds words To speak of, better had ye here on earth Been flocks or mountain goats. As down we stood In the dark pit beneath the giants’ feet, But lower far than they, and I did gaze Still on the lofty battlement, a voice Bespoke me thus: “Look how thou walkest. Take Good heed, thy soles do tread not on the heads Of thy poor brethren.” Thereupon I turn’d, And saw before and underneath my feet A lake, whose frozen surface liker seem’d To glass than water. Not so thick a veil In winter e’er hath Austrian Danube spread O’er his still course, nor Tanais far remote Under the chilling sky. Roll’d o’er that mass Had Tabernich or Pietrapana fall’n,

Not e’en its rim had creak’d. As peeps the frog Croaking above the wave, what time in dreams The village gleaner oft pursues her toil, So, to where modest shame appears, thus low Blue pinch’d and shrin’d in ice the spirits stood, Moving their teeth in shrill note like the stork. His face each downward held; their mouth the cold, Their eyes express’d the dolour of their heart.

A space I look’d around, then at my feet Saw two so strictly join’d, that of their head The very hairs were mingled. “Tell me ye, Whose bosoms thus together press,” said I, “Who are ye?” At that sound their necks they bent, And when their looks were lifted up to me, Straightway their eyes, before all moist within, Distill’d upon their lips, and the frost bound The tears betwixt those orbs and held them there. Plank unto plank hath never cramp clos’d up So stoutly. Whence like two enraged goats They clash’d together; them such fury seiz’d.

And one, from whom the cold both ears had reft, Exclaim’d, still looking downward: “Why on us Dost speculate so long? If thou wouldst know Who are these two, the valley, whence his wave Bisenzio slopes, did for its master own Their sire Alberto, and next him themselves. They from one body issued; and throughout Caina thou mayst search, nor find a shade More worthy in congealment to be fix’d, Not him, whose breast and shadow Arthur’s land At that one blow dissever’d, not Focaccia, No not this spirit, whose o’erjutting head Obstructs my onward view: he bore the name Of Mascheroni: Tuscan if thou be, Well knowest who he was: and to cut short All further question, in my form behold What once was Camiccione. I await Carlino here my kinsman, whose deep guilt Shall wash out mine.” A thousand visages Then mark’d I, which the keen and eager cold Had shap’d into a doggish grin; whence creeps A shiv’ring horror o’er me, at the thought Of those frore shallows. While we journey’d on Toward the middle, at whose point unites All heavy substance, and I trembling went Through that eternal chillness, I know not If will it were or destiny, or chance, But, passing ’midst the heads, my foot did strike With violent blow against the face of one.

“Wherefore dost bruise me?” weeping, he exclaim’d, “Unless thy errand be some fresh revenge For Montaperto, wherefore troublest me?”

I thus: “Instructor, now await me here, That I through him may rid me of my doubt. Thenceforth what haste thou wilt.” The teacher paus’d, And to that shade I spake, who bitterly Still curs’d me in his wrath. “What art thou, speak, That railest thus on others?” He replied: “Now who