The Divine Comedy

Canto VI

My sense reviving, that erewhile had droop'dWith pity for the kindred shades, whence griefO'ercame me wholly, straight around I seeNew torments, new tormented souls, which waySoe'er I move, or turn, or bend my sight.In the third circle I arrive, of show'rsCeaseless, accursed, heavy, and cold, unchang'dFor ever, both in kind and in degree.Large hail, discolour'd water, sleety flawThrough the dun midnight air stream'd down amain:Stank all the land whereon that tempest fell.Cerberus, cruel monster, fierce and strange,Through his wide threefold throat barks as a dogOver the multitude immers'd beneath.His eyes glare crimson, black his unctuous beard,His belly large, and claw'd the hands, with whichHe tears the spirits, flays them, and their limbsPiecemeal disparts. Howling there spread, as curs,Under the rainy deluge, with one sideThe other screening, oft they roll them round,A wretched, godless crew. When that great wormDescried us, savage Cerberus, he op'dHis jaws, and the fangs show'd us; not a limbOf him but trembled. Then my guide, his palmsExpanding on the ground, thence filled with earthRais'd them, and cast it in his ravenous maw.E'en as a dog, that yelling bays for foodHis keeper, when the morsel comes, lets fallHis fury, bent alone with eager hasteTo swallow it; so dropp'd the loathsome cheeksOf demon Cerberus, who thund'ring stunsThe spirits, that they for deafness wish in vain.We, o'er the shades thrown prostrate by the bruntOf the heavy tempest passing, set our feetUpon their emptiness, that substance seem'd.They all along the earth extended laySave one, that sudden rais'd himself to sit,Soon as that way he saw us pass. “O thou!”He cried, “who through the infernal shades art led,Own, if again thou know'st me. Thou wast fram'dOr ere my frame was broken.” I replied:“The anguish thou endur'st perchance so takesThy form from my remembrance, that it seemsAs if I saw thee never. But informMe who thou art, that in a place so sadArt set, and in such torment, that althoughOther be greater, more disgustful noneCan be imagin'd.” He in answer thus:“Thy city heap'd with envy to the brim,Ay that the measure overflows its bounds,Held me in brighter days. Ye citizensWere wont to name me Ciacco. For the sinOf glutt'ny, damned vice, beneath this rain,E'en as thou see'st, I with fatigue am worn;Nor I sole spirit in this woe: all theseHave by like crime incurr'd like punishment.”No more he said, and I my speech resum'd:“Ciacco! thy dire affliction grieves me much,Even to tears. But tell me, if thou know'st,What shall at length befall the citizensOf the divided city; whether any just oneInhabit there: and tell me of the cause,Whence jarring discord hath assail'd it thus?”He then: “After long striving they will comeTo blood; and the wild party from the woodsWill chase the other with much injury forth.Then it behoves, that this must fall, withinThree solar circles; and the other riseBy borrow'd force of one, who under shoreNow rests. It shall a long space hold aloofIts forehead, keeping under heavy weightThe other oppress'd, indignant at the load,And grieving sore. The just are two in number,But they neglected. Av'rice, envy, pride,Three fatal sparks, have set the hearts of allOn fire.” Here ceas'd the lamentable sound;And I continu'd thus: “Still would I learnMore from thee, farther parley still entreat.Of Farinata and Tegghiaio say,They who so well deserv'd, of Giacopo,Arrigo, Mosca, and the rest, who bentTheir minds on working good. Oh! tell me whereThey bide, and to their knowledge let me come.For I am press'd with keen desire to hear,If heaven's sweet cup or poisonous drug of hellBe to their lip assign'd.” He answer'd straight:“These are yet blacker spirits. Various crimesHave sunk them deeper in the dark abyss.If thou so far descendest, thou mayst see them.But to the pleasant world when thou return'st,Of me make mention, I entreat thee, there.No more I tell thee, answer thee no more.”This said, his fixed eyes he turn'd askance,A little ey'd me, then bent down his head,And 'midst his blind companions with it fell.When thus my guide: “No more his bed he leaves,Ere the last angel-trumpet blow. The PowerAdverse to these shall then in glory come,Each one forthwith to his sad tomb repair,Resume his fleshly vesture and his form,And hear the eternal doom re-echoing rendThe vault.” So pass'd we through that mixture foulOf spirits and rain, with tardy steps; meanwhileTouching, though slightly, on the life to come.For thus I question'd: “Shall these tortures, Sir!When the great sentence passes, be increas'd,Or mitigated, or as now severe?”He then: “Consult thy knowledge; that decidesThat as each thing to more perfection grows,It feels more sensibly both good and pain.Though ne'er to true perfection may arriveThis race accurs'd, yet nearer then than nowThey shall approach it.” Compassing that pathCircuitous we journeyed, and discourseMuch more than I relate between us pass'd:Till at the point, where the steps led below,Arriv'd, there Plutus, the great foe, we found.

Canto VII

“Ah me! O Satan! Satan!” loud exclaim'dPlutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm:And the kind sage, whom no event surpris'd,To comfort me thus spake: “Let not thy fearHarm thee, for power in him, be sure, is noneTo hinder down this rock thy safe descent.”Then to that sworn lip turning, “Peace!” he cried,“Curs'd wolf! thy fury inward on thyselfPrey, and consume thee! Through the dark profoundNot without cause he passes. So 't is will'dOn high, there where the great Archangel pour'dHeav'n's vengeance on the first adulterer proud.”As sails full spread and bellying with the windDrop suddenly collaps'd, if the mast split;So to the ground down dropp'd the cruel fiend.Thus we, descending to the fourth steep ledge,Gain'd on the dismal shore, that all the woeHems in of all the universe. Ah me!Almighty Justice! in what store thou heap'stNew pains, new troubles, as I here beheld!Wherefore doth fault of ours bring us to this?E'en as a billow, on Charybdis rising,Against encounter'd billow dashing breaks;Such is the dance this wretched race must lead,Whom more than elsewhere numerous here I found,From one side and the other, with loud voice,Both roll'd on weights by main forge of their breasts,Then smote together, and each one forthwithRoll'd them back voluble, turning again,Exclaiming these, “Why holdest thou so fast?”Those answering, “And why castest thou away?”So still repeating their despiteful song,They to the opposite point on either handTravers'd the horrid circle: then arriv'd,Both turn'd them round, and through the middle spaceConflicting met again. At sight whereofI, stung with grief, thus spake: “O say, my guide!What race is this? Were these, whose heads are shorn,On our left hand, all sep'rate to the church?”He straight replied: “In their first life these allIn mind were so distorted, that they made,According to due measure, of their wealth,No use. This clearly from their words collect,Which they howl forth, at each extremityArriving of the circle, where their crimeContrary in kind disparts them. To the churchWere separate those, that with no hairy cowlsAre crown'd, both Popes and Cardinals, o'er whomAv'rice dominion absolute maintains.”I then: “Mid such as these some needs must be,Whom I shall recognize, that with the blotOf these foul sins were stain'd.” He answering thus:“Vain thought conceiv'st thou. That ignoble life,Which made them vile before, now makes them dark,And to all knowledge indiscernible.Forever they shall meet in this rude shock:These from the tomb with clenched grasp shall rise,Those with close-shaven locks. That ill they gave,And ill they kept, hath of the beauteous worldDepriv'd, and set them at this strife, which needsNo labour'd phrase of mine to set it off.Now may'st thou see, my son! how brief, how vain,The goods committed into fortune's hands,For which the human race keep such a coil!Not all the gold, that is beneath the moon,Or ever hath been, of these toil-worn soulsMight purchase rest for one.” I thus rejoin'd:“My guide! of thee this also would I learn;This fortune, that thou speak'st of, what it is,Whose talons grasp the blessings of the world?”He thus: “O beings blind! what ignoranceBesets you? Now my judgment hear and mark.He, whose transcendent wisdom passes all,The heavens creating, gave them ruling powersTo guide them, so that each part shines to each,Their light in equal distribution pour'd.By similar appointment he ordain'dOver the world's bright images to ruleSuperintendence of a guiding handAnd general minister, which at due timeMay change the empty vantages of lifeFrom race to race, from one to other's blood,Beyond prevention of man's wisest care:Wherefore one nation rises into sway,Another languishes, e'en as her willDecrees, from us conceal'd, as in the grassThe serpent train. Against her nought availsYour utmost wisdom. She with foresight plans,Judges, and carries on her reign, as theirsThe other powers divine. Her changes knowNone intermission: by necessityShe is made swift, so frequent come who claimSuccession in her favours. This is she,So execrated e'en by those, whose debtTo her is rather praise; they wrongfullyWith blame requite her, and with evil word;But she is blessed, and for that recks not:Amidst the other primal beings gladRolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults.Now on our way pass we, to heavier woeDescending: for each star is falling now,That mounted at our entrance, and forbidsToo long our tarrying.” We the circle cross'dTo the next steep, arriving at a well,That boiling pours itself down to a fossSluic'd from its source. Far murkier was the waveThan sablest grain: and we in companyOf the inky waters, journeying by their side,Enter'd, though by a different track, beneath.Into a lake, the Stygian nam'd, expandsThe dismal stream, when it hath reach'd the footOf the grey wither'd cliffs. Intent I stoodTo gaze, and in the marish sunk descriedA miry tribe, all naked, and with looksBetok'ning rage. They with their hands aloneStruck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet,Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs.The good instructor spake; “Now seest thou, son!The souls of those, whom anger overcame.This too for certain know, that underneathThe water dwells a multitude, whose sighsInto these bubbles make the surface heave,As thine eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turn.Fix'd in the slime they say: 'Sad once were weIn the sweet air made gladsome by the sun,Carrying a foul and lazy mist within:Now in these murky settlings are we sad.'Such dolorous strain they gurgle in their throats.But word distinct can utter none.” Our routeThus compass'd we, a segment widely stretch'dBetween the dry embankment, and the coreOf the loath'd pool, turning meanwhile our eyesDownward on those who gulp'd its muddy lees;Nor stopp'd, till to a tower's low base we came.

Canto VIII

My theme pursuing, I relate that ereWe reach'd the lofty turret's base, our eyesIts height ascended, where two cressets hungWe mark'd, and from afar another lightReturn the signal, so remote, that scarceThe eye could catch its beam. I turning roundTo the deep source of knowledge, thus inquir'd:“Say what this means? and what that other lightIn answer set? what agency doth this?”“There on the filthy waters,” he replied,“E'en now what next awaits us mayst thou see,If the marsh-gender'd fog conceal it not.”Never was arrow from the cord dismiss'd,That ran its way so nimbly through the air,As a small bark, that through the waves I spiedToward us coming, under the sole swayOf one that ferried it, who cried aloud:“Art thou arriv'd, fell spirit?” – “Phlegyas, Phlegyas,This time thou criest in vain,” my lord replied;“No longer shalt thou have us, but while o'erThe slimy pool we pass.” As one who hearsOf some great wrong he hath sustain'd, whereatInly he pines; so Phlegyas inly pin'dIn his fierce ire. My guide descending stepp'dInto the skiff, and bade me enter nextClose at his side; nor till my entrance seem'dThe vessel freighted. Soon as both embark'd,Cutting the waves, goes on the ancient prow,More deeply than with others it is wont.While we our course o'er the dead channel held.One drench'd in mire before me came, and said;“Who art thou, that thou comest ere thine hour?”I answer'd: “Though I come, I tarry not;But who art thou, that art become so foul?”“One, as thou seest, who mourn:” he straight replied.To which I thus: “In mourning and in woe,Curs'd spirit! tarry thou. I know thee well,E'en thus in filth disguis'd.” Then stretch'd he forthHands to the bark; whereof my teacher sageAware, thrusting him back: “Away! down there,“To the other dogs!” then, with his arms my neckEncircling, kiss'd my cheek, and spake: “O soulJustly disdainful! blest was she in whomThou was conceiv'd! He in the world was oneFor arrogance noted; to his memoryNo virtue lends its lustre; even soHere is his shadow furious. There aboveHow many now hold themselves mighty kingsWho here like swine shall wallow in the mire,Leaving behind them horrible dispraise!”I then: “Master! him fain would I beholdWhelm'd in these dregs, before we quit the lake.”He thus: “Or ever to thy view the shoreBe offer'd, satisfied shall be that wish,Which well deserves completion.” Scarce his wordsWere ended, when I saw the miry tribesSet on him with such violence, that yetFor that render I thanks to God and praise“To Filippo Argenti:” cried they all:And on himself the moody FlorentineTurn'd his avenging fangs. Him here we left,Nor speak I of him more. But on mine earSudden a sound of lamentation smote,Whereat mine eye unbarr'd I sent abroad.And thus the good instructor: “Now, my son!Draws near the city, that of Dis is nam'd,With its grave denizens, a mighty throng.”I thus: “The minarets already, Sir!There certes in the valley I descry,Gleaming vermilion, as if they from fireHad issu'd.” He replied: “Eternal fire,That inward burns, shows them with ruddy flameIllum'd; as in this nether hell thou seest.”We came within the fosses deep, that moatThis region comfortless. The walls appear'dAs they were fram'd of iron. We had madeWide circuit, ere a place we reach'd, where loudThe mariner cried vehement: “Go forth!The entrance is here!” Upon the gates I spiedMore than a thousand, who of old from heavenWere hurl'd. With ireful gestures, “Who is this,”They cried, “that without death first felt, goes throughThe regions of the dead?” My sapient guideMade sign that he for secret parley wish'd;Whereat their angry scorn abating, thusThey spake: “Come thou alone; and let him goWho hath so hardily enter'd this realm.Alone return he by his witless way;If well he know it, let him prove. For thee,Here shalt thou tarry, who through clime so darkHast been his escort.” Now bethink thee, reader!What cheer was mine at sound of those curs'd words.I did believe I never should return.“O my lov'd guide! who more than seven timesSecurity hast render'd me, and drawnFrom peril deep, whereto I stood expos'd,Desert me not,” I cried, “in this extreme.And if our onward going be denied,Together trace we back our steps with speed.”My liege, who thither had conducted me,Replied: “Fear not: for of our passage noneHath power to disappoint us, by such highAuthority permitted. But do thouExpect me here; meanwhile thy wearied spiritComfort, and feed with kindly hope, assur'dI will not leave thee in this lower world.”This said, departs the sire benevolent,And quits me. Hesitating I remainAt war 'twixt will and will not in my thoughts.I could not hear what terms he offer'd them,But they conferr'd not long, for all at onceTo trial fled within. Clos'd were the gatesBy those our adversaries on the breastOf my liege lord: excluded he return'dTo me with tardy steps. Upon the groundHis eyes were bent, and from his brow eras'dAll confidence, while thus with sighs he spake:“Who hath denied me these abodes of woe?”Then thus to me: “That I am anger'd, thinkNo ground of terror: in this trial IShall vanquish, use what arts they may withinFor hindrance. This their insolence, not new,Erewhile at gate less secret they display'd,Which still is without bolt; upon its archThou saw'st the deadly scroll: and even nowOn this side of its entrance, down the steep,Passing the circles, unescorted, comesOne whose strong might can open us this land.”

Canto IX

The hue, which coward dread on my pale cheeksImprinted, when I saw my guide turn back,Chas'd that from his which newly they had worn,And inwardly restrain'd it. He, as oneWho listens, stood attentive: for his eyeNot far could lead him through the sable air,And the thick-gath'ring cloud. “It yet behoovesWe win this fight” – thus he began – “if not -Such aid to us is offer'd. – Oh, how longMe seems it, ere the promis'd help arrive!”I noted, how the sequel of his wordsClok'd their beginning; for the last he spakeAgreed not with the first. But not the lessMy fear was at his saying; sith I drewTo import worse perchance, than that he held,His mutilated speech. “Doth ever anyInto this rueful concave's extreme depthDescend, out of the first degree, whose painIs deprivation merely of sweet hope?”Thus I inquiring. “Rarely,” he replied,“It chances, that among us any makesThis journey, which I wend. Erewhile 'tis trueOnce came I here beneath, conjur'd by fellErictho, sorceress, who compell'd the shadesBack to their bodies. No long space my fleshWas naked of me, when within these wallsShe made me enter, to draw forth a spiritFrom out of Judas' circle. Lowest placeIs that of all, obscurest, and remov'dFarthest from heav'n's all-circling orb. The roadFull well I know: thou therefore rest secure.That lake, the noisome stench exhaling, roundThe city' of grief encompasses, which nowWe may not enter without rage.” Yet moreHe added: but I hold it not in mind,For that mine eye toward the lofty towerHad drawn me wholly, to its burning top.Where in an instant I beheld uprisenAt once three hellish furies stain'd with blood:In limb and motion feminine they seem'd;Around them greenest hydras twisting roll'dTheir volumes; adders and cerastes creptInstead of hair, and their fierce temples bound.He knowing well the miserable hagsWho tend the queen of endless woe, thus spake:“Mark thou each dire Erinnys. To the leftThis is Megaera; on the right hand she,Who wails, Alecto; and TisiphoneI' th' midst.” This said, in silence he remain'dTheir breast they each one clawing tore; themselvesSmote with their palms, and such shrill clamour rais'd,That to the bard I clung, suspicion-bound.“Hasten Medusa: so to adamantHim shall we change;” all looking down exclaim'd.“E'en when by Theseus' might assail'd, we tookNo ill revenge.” “Turn thyself round, and keepThy count'nance hid; for if the Gorgon direBe shown, and thou shouldst view it, thy returnUpwards would be for ever lost.” This said,Himself my gentle master turn'd me round,Nor trusted he my hands, but with his ownHe also hid me. Ye of intellectSound and entire, mark well the lore conceal'dUnder close texture of the mystic strain!And now there came o'er the perturbed wavesLoud-crashing, terrible, a sound that madeEither shore tremble, as if of a windImpetuous, from conflicting vapours sprung,That 'gainst some forest driving all its might,Plucks off the branches, beats them down and hurlsAfar; then onward passing proudly sweepsIts whirlwind rage, while beasts and shepherds fly.Mine eyes he loos'd, and spake: “And now directThy visual nerve along that ancient foam,There, thickest where the smoke ascends.” As frogsBefore their foe the serpent, through the wavePly swiftly all, till at the ground each oneLies on a heap; more than a thousand spiritsDestroy'd, so saw I fleeing before oneWho pass'd with unwet feet the Stygian sound.He, from his face removing the gross air,Oft his left hand forth stretch'd, and seem'd aloneBy that annoyance wearied. I perceiv'dThat he was sent from heav'n, and to my guideTurn'd me, who signal made that I should standQuiet, and bend to him. Ah me! how fullOf noble anger seem'd he! To the gateHe came, and with his wand touch'd it, whereatOpen without impediment it flew.“Outcasts of heav'n! O abject race and scorn'd!”Began he on the horrid grunsel standing,“Whence doth this wild excess of insolenceLodge in you? wherefore kick you 'gainst that willNe'er frustrate of its end, and which so oftHath laid on you enforcement of your pangs?What profits at the fays to but the horn?Your Cerberus, if ye remember, henceBears still, peel'd of their hair, his throat and maw.”This said, he turn'd back o'er the filthy way,And syllable to us spake none, but woreThe semblance of a man by other careBeset, and keenly press'd, than thought of himWho in his presence stands. Then we our stepsToward that territory mov'd, secureAfter the hallow'd words. We unoppos'dThere enter'd; and my mind eager to learnWhat state a fortress like to that might hold,I soon as enter'd throw mine eye around,And see on every part wide-stretching spaceReplete with bitter pain and torment ill.As where Rhone stagnates on the plains of Arles,Or as at Pola, near Quarnaro's gulf,That closes Italy and laves her bounds,The place is all thick spread with sepulchres;So was it here, save what in horror hereExcell'd: for 'midst the graves were scattered flames,Wherewith intensely all throughout they burn'd,That iron for no craft there hotter needs.Their lids all hung suspended, and beneathFrom them forth issu'd lamentable moans,Such as the sad and tortur'd well might raise.I thus: “Master! say who are these, interr'dWithin these vaults, of whom distinct we hearThe dolorous sighs?” He answer thus return'd:“The arch-heretics are here, accompaniedBy every sect their followers; and much more,Than thou believest, tombs are freighted: likeWith like is buried; and the monumentsAre different in degrees of heat.” This said,He to the right hand turning, on we pass'dBetwixt the afflicted and the ramparts high.

Canto X

Now by a secret pathway we proceed,Between the walls, that hem the region round,And the tormented souls: my master first,I close behind his steps. “Virtue supreme!”I thus began; “who through these ample orbsIn circuit lead'st me, even as thou will'st,Speak thou, and satisfy my wish. May those,Who lie within these sepulchres, be seen?Already all the lids are rais'd, and noneO'er them keeps watch.” He thus in answer spake“They shall be closed all, what-time they hereFrom Josaphat return'd shall come, and bringTheir bodies, which above they now have left.The cemetery on this part obtainWith Epicurus all his followers,Who with the body make the spirit die.Here therefore satisfaction shall be soonBoth to the question ask'd, and to the wish,Which thou conceal'st in silence.” I replied:“I keep not, guide belov'd! from thee my heartSecreted, but to shun vain length of words,A lesson erewhile taught me by thyself.”“O Tuscan! thou who through the city of fireAlive art passing, so discreet of speech!Here please thee stay awhile. Thy utteranceDeclares the place of thy nativityTo be that noble land, with which perchanceI too severely dealt.” Sudden that soundForth issu'd from a vault, whereat in fearI somewhat closer to my leader's sideApproaching, he thus spake: “What dost thou? Turn.Lo, Farinata, there! who hath himselfUplifted: from his girdle upwards allExpos'd behold him.” On his face was mineAlready fix'd; his breast and forehead thereErecting, seem'd as in high scorn he heldE'en hell. Between the sepulchres to himMy guide thrust me with fearless hands and prompt,This warning added: “See thy words be clear!”He, soon as there I stood at the tomb's foot,Ey'd me a space, then in disdainful moodAddress'd me: “Say, what ancestors were thine?”I, willing to obey him, straight reveal'dThe whole, nor kept back aught: whence he, his browSomewhat uplifting, cried: “Fiercely were theyAdverse to me, my party, and the bloodFrom whence I sprang: twice therefore I abroadScatter'd them.” “Though driv'n out, yet they each timeFrom all parts,” answer'd I, “return'd; an artWhich yours have shown, they are not skill'd to learn.”Then, peering forth from the unclosed jaw,Rose from his side a shade, high as the chin,Leaning, methought, upon its knees uprais'd.It look'd around, as eager to exploreIf there were other with me; but perceivingThat fond imagination quench'd, with tearsThus spake: “If thou through this blind prison go'st.Led by thy lofty genius and profound,Where is my son? and wherefore not with thee?”I straight replied: “Not of myself I come,By him, who there expects me, through this climeConducted, whom perchance Guido thy sonHad in contempt.” Already had his wordsAnd mode of punishment read me his name,Whence I so fully answer'd. He at onceExclaim'd, up starting, “How! said'st thou he HAD?No longer lives he? Strikes not on his eyeThe blessed daylight?” Then of some delayI made ere my reply aware, down fellSupine, not after forth appear'd he more.Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whomI yet was station'd, chang'd not count'nance stern,Nor mov'd the neck, nor bent his ribbed side.“And if,” continuing the first discourse,“They in this art,” he cried, “small skill have shown,That doth torment me more e'en than this bed.But not yet fifty times shall be relum'dHer aspect, who reigns here Queen of this realm,Ere thou shalt know the full weight of that art.So to the pleasant world mayst thou return,As thou shalt tell me, why in all their laws,Against my kin this people is so fell?”“The slaughter and great havoc,” I replied,“That colour'd Arbia's flood with crimson stain -To these impute, that in our hallow'd domeSuch orisons ascend.” Sighing he shookThe head, then thus resum'd: “In that affrayI stood not singly, nor without just causeAssuredly should with the rest have stirr'd;But singly there I stood, when by consentOf all, Florence had to the ground been raz'd,The one who openly forbad the deed.”“So may thy lineage find at last repose,”I thus adjur'd him, “as thou solve this knot,Which now involves my mind. If right I hear,Ye seem to view beforehand, that which timeLeads with him, of the present uninform'd.”“We view, as one who hath an evil sight,”He answer'd, “plainly, objects far remote:So much of his large spendour yet impartsThe Almighty Ruler; but when they approachOr actually exist, our intellectThen wholly fails, nor of your human stateExcept what others bring us know we aught.Hence therefore mayst thou understand, that allOur knowledge in that instant shall expire,When on futurity the portals close.”Then conscious of my fault, and by remorseSmitten, I added thus: “Now shalt thou sayTo him there fallen, that his offspring stillIs to the living join'd; and bid him know,That if from answer silent I abstain'd,'Twas that my thought was occupied intentUpon that error, which thy help hath solv'd.”But now my master summoning me backI heard, and with more eager haste besoughtThe spirit to inform me, who with himPartook his lot. He answer thus return'd:“More than a thousand with me here are laidWithin is Frederick, second of that name,And the Lord Cardinal, and of the restI speak not.” He, this said, from sight withdrew.But I my steps towards the ancient bardReverting, ruminated on the wordsBetokening me such ill. Onward he mov'd,And thus in going question'd: “Whence the amazeThat holds thy senses wrapt?” I satisfiedThe inquiry, and the sage enjoin'd me straight:“Let thy safe memory store what thou hast heardTo thee importing harm; and note thou this,”With his rais'd finger bidding me take heed,“When thou shalt stand before her gracious beam,Whose bright eye all surveys, she of thy lifeThe future tenour will to thee unfold.”Forthwith he to the left hand turn'd his feet:We left the wall, and tow'rds the middle spaceWent by a path, that to a valley strikes;Which e'en thus high exhal'd its noisome steam.