The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri · Dante Alighieri
CANTO VII.
Pape[293] Satan! Pape Satan! Aleppe! Plutus[294] began in accents rough and hard: And that mild Sage, all-knowing, said to me, For my encouragement: 'Pay no regard Unto thy fear; whatever power he sways Thy passage down this cliff shall not be barred.' Then turning round to that inflamèd face He bade: 'Accursed wolf,[295] at peace remain; And, pent within thee, let thy fury blaze. Down to the pit we journey not in vain: 10 So rule they where by Michael in Heaven's height On the adulterous pride[296] was vengeance ta'en.' Then as the bellied sails, by wind swelled tight, Suddenly drag whenever snaps the mast; Such, falling to the ground, the monster's plight. To the Fourth Cavern so we downward passed, Winning new reaches of the doleful shore Where all the vileness of the world is cast. Justice of God! which pilest more and more Pain as I saw, and travail manifold! 20 Why will we sin, to be thus wasted sore? As at Charybdis waves are forward rolled To break on other billows midway met, The people here a counterdance must hold. A greater crowd than I had seen as yet, With piercing yells advanced on either track, Rolling great stones to which their chests were set.
They crashed together, and then each turned back Upon the way he came, while shouts arise, 'Why clutch it so?' and 'Why to hold it slack?' 30 In the dark circle wheeled they on this wise From either hand to the opposing part, Where evermore they raised insulting cries. Thither arrived, each, turning, made fresh start Through the half circle[297] a new joust to run; And I, stung almost to the very heart, Said, 'O my Master, wilt thou make it known Who the folk are? Were these all clerks[298] who go Before us on the left, with shaven crown?' And he replied: 'All of them squinted so 40 In mental vision while in life they were, They nothing spent by rule. And this they show, And with their yelping voices make appear When half-way round the circle they have sped, And sins opposing them asunder tear. Each wanting thatch of hair upon his head Was once a clerk, or pope, or cardinal, In whom abound the ripest growths of greed.' And I: 'O Master, surely among all Of these I ought[299] some few to recognise, 50 Who by such filthy sins were held in thrall.' And he to me: 'Vain thoughts within thee rise; Their witless life, which made them vile, now mocks-- Dimming[300] their faces still--all searching eyes.
Eternally they meet with hostile shocks; These rising from the tomb at last shall stand With tight clenched fists, and those with ruined locks.[301] Squandering or hoarding, they the happy land[302] Have lost, and now are marshalled for this fray; Which to describe doth no fine words demand. 60 Know hence, my Son, how fleeting is the play Of goods at the dispose of Fortune thrown, And which mankind to such fierce strife betray. Not all the gold which is beneath the moon Could purchase peace, nor all that ever was, To but one soul of these by toil undone.' 'Master,' I said, 'tell thou, ere making pause, Who Fortune is of whom thou speak'st askance, Who holds all worldly riches in her claws.'[303] 'O foolish creatures, lost in ignorance!' 70 He answer made. 'Now see that the reply Thou store, which I concerning her advance. He who in knowledge is exalted high, Framing[304] all Heavens gave such as should them guide, That so each part might shine to all; whereby Is equal light diffused on every side: And likewise to one guide and governor, Of worldly splendours did control confide, That she in turns should different peoples dower 79 With this vain good; from blood should make it pass To blood, in spite of human wit.
Hence, power, Some races failing,[305] other some amass, According to her absolute decree Which hidden lurks, like serpent in the grass. Vain 'gainst her foresight yours must ever be. She makes provision, judges, holds her reign, As doth his power supreme each deity. Her permutations can no truce sustain; Necessity[306] compels her to be swift, So swift they follow who their turn must gain. 90 And this is she whom they so often[307] lift Upon the cross, who ought to yield her praise; And blame on her and scorn unjustly shift. But she is blest nor hears what any says, With other primal creatures turns her sphere, Jocund and glad, rejoicing in her ways. To greater woe now let us downward steer. The stars[308] which rose when I began to guide Are falling now, nor may we linger here.' We crossed the circle to the other side, 100 Arriving where a boiling fountain fell Into a brooklet by its streams supplied. In depth of hue the flood did perse[309] excel, And we, with this dim stream to lead us on, Descended by a pathway terrible. A marsh which by the name of Styx is known, Fed by this gloomy brook, lies at the base Of threatening cliffs hewn out of cold grey stone.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.