CANTO VFrom the first circle I descended thusDown to the second, which, a lesser spaceEmbracing, so much more of grief containsProvoking bitter moans. There, Minos standsGrinning with ghastly feature: he, of allWho enter, strict examining the crimes,Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath,According as he foldeth him around:For when before him comes th’ ill fated soul,It all confesses; and that judge severeOf sins, considering what place in hellSuits the transgression, with his tail so oftHimself encircles, as degrees beneathHe dooms it to descend. Before him standAlways a num’rous throng; and in his turnEach one to judgment passing, speaks, and hearsHis fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl’d.“O thou! who to this residence of woeApproachest?” when he saw me coming, criedMinos, relinquishing his dread employ,“Look how thou enter here; beware in whomThou place thy trust; let not the entrance broadDeceive thee to thy harm.” To him my guide:“Wherefore exclaimest? Hinder not his wayBy destiny appointed; so ’tis will’dWhere will and power are one. Ask thou no more.”Now ’gin the rueful wailings to be heard.Now am I come where many a plaining voiceSmites on mine ear. Into a place I cameWhere light was silent all. Bellowing there groan’dA noise as of a sea in tempest tornBy warring winds. The stormy blast of hellWith restless fury drives the spirits onWhirl’d round and dash’d amain with sore annoy.When they arrive before the ruinous sweep,There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans,And blasphemies ’gainst the good Power in heaven.I understood that to this torment sadThe carnal sinners are condemn’d, in whomReason by lust is sway’d. As in large troopsAnd multitudinous, when winter reigns,The starlings on their wings are borne abroad;So bears the tyrannous gust those evil souls.On this side and on that, above, below,It drives them: hope of rest to solace themIs none, nor e’en of milder pang. As cranes,Chanting their dol’rous notes, traverse the sky,Stretch’d out in long array: so I beheldSpirits, who came loud wailing, hurried onBy their dire doom. Then I: “Instructor! whoAre these, by the black air so scourg’d?”—” The first’Mong those, of whom thou question’st,” he replied,“O’er many tongues was empress. She in viceOf luxury was so shameless, that she madeLiking be lawful by promulg’d decree,To clear the blame she had herself incurr’d.This is Semiramis, of whom ’tis writ,That she succeeded Ninus her espous’d;And held the land, which now the Soldan rules.The next in amorous fury slew herself,And to Sicheus’ ashes broke her faith:Then follows Cleopatra, lustful queen.”There mark’d I Helen, for whose sake so longThe time was fraught with evil; there the greatAchilles, who with love fought to the end.Paris I saw, and Tristan; and besideA thousand more he show’d me, and by namePointed them out, whom love bereav’d of life.When I had heard my sage instructor nameThose dames and knights of antique days, o’erpower’dBy pity, well-nigh in amaze my mindWas lost; and I began: “Bard! willinglyI would address those two together coming,Which seem so light before the wind.” He thus:“Note thou, when nearer they to us approach.Then by that love which carries them along,Entreat; and they will come.” Soon as the windSway’d them toward us, I thus fram’d my speech:“O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourseWith us, if by none else restrain’d.” As dovesBy fond desire invited, on wide wingsAnd firm, to their sweet nest returning home,Cleave the air, wafted by their will along;Thus issu’d from that troop, where Dido ranks,They through the ill air speeding; with such forceMy cry prevail’d by strong affection urg’d.“O gracious creature and benign! who go’stVisiting, through this element obscure,Us, who the world with bloody stain imbru’d;If for a friend the King of all we own’d,Our pray’r to him should for thy peace arise,Since thou hast pity on our evil plight.()f whatsoe’er to hear or to discourseIt pleases thee, that will we hear, of thatFreely with thee discourse, while e’er the wind,As now, is mute. The land, that gave me birth,Is situate on the coast, where Po descendsTo rest in ocean with his sequent streams.“Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt,Entangled him by that fair form, from meTa’en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still:Love, that denial takes from none belov’d,Caught me with pleasing him so passing well,That, as thou see’st, he yet deserts me not.Love brought us to one death: Caina waitsThe soul, who spilt our life.” Such were their words;At hearing which downward I bent my looks,And held them there so long, that the bard cried:“What art thou pond’ring?” I in answer thus:“Alas! by what sweet thoughts, what fond desireMust they at length to that ill pass have reach’d!”Then turning, I to them my speech address’d.And thus began: “Francesca! your sad fateEven to tears my grief and pity moves.But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs,By what, and how love granted, that ye knewYour yet uncertain wishes?” She replied:“No greater grief than to remember daysOf joy, when mis’ry is at hand! That kensThy learn’d instructor. Yet so eagerlyIf thou art bent to know the primal root,From whence our love gat being, I will do,As one, who weeps and tells his tale. One dayFor our delight we read of Lancelot,How him love thrall’d. Alone we were, and noSuspicion near us. Ofttimes by that readingOur eyes were drawn together, and the hueFled from our alter’d cheek. But at one pointAlone we fell. When of that smile we read,The wished smile, rapturously kiss’dBy one so deep in love, then he, who ne’erFrom me shall separate, at once my lipsAll trembling kiss’d. The book and writer bothWere love’s purveyors. In its leaves that dayWe read no more.” While thus one spirit spake,The other wail’d so sorely, that heartstruckI through compassion fainting, seem’d not farFrom death, and like a corpse fell to the ground.
From the first circle I descended thusDown to the second, which, a lesser spaceEmbracing, so much more of grief containsProvoking bitter moans. There, Minos standsGrinning with ghastly feature: he, of allWho enter, strict examining the crimes,Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath,According as he foldeth him around:For when before him comes th’ ill fated soul,It all confesses; and that judge severeOf sins, considering what place in hellSuits the transgression, with his tail so oftHimself encircles, as degrees beneathHe dooms it to descend. Before him standAlways a num’rous throng; and in his turnEach one to judgment passing, speaks, and hearsHis fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl’d.
“O thou! who to this residence of woeApproachest?” when he saw me coming, criedMinos, relinquishing his dread employ,“Look how thou enter here; beware in whomThou place thy trust; let not the entrance broadDeceive thee to thy harm.” To him my guide:“Wherefore exclaimest? Hinder not his wayBy destiny appointed; so ’tis will’dWhere will and power are one. Ask thou no more.”
Now ’gin the rueful wailings to be heard.Now am I come where many a plaining voiceSmites on mine ear. Into a place I cameWhere light was silent all. Bellowing there groan’dA noise as of a sea in tempest tornBy warring winds. The stormy blast of hellWith restless fury drives the spirits onWhirl’d round and dash’d amain with sore annoy.When they arrive before the ruinous sweep,There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans,And blasphemies ’gainst the good Power in heaven.
I understood that to this torment sadThe carnal sinners are condemn’d, in whomReason by lust is sway’d. As in large troopsAnd multitudinous, when winter reigns,The starlings on their wings are borne abroad;So bears the tyrannous gust those evil souls.On this side and on that, above, below,It drives them: hope of rest to solace themIs none, nor e’en of milder pang. As cranes,Chanting their dol’rous notes, traverse the sky,Stretch’d out in long array: so I beheldSpirits, who came loud wailing, hurried onBy their dire doom. Then I: “Instructor! whoAre these, by the black air so scourg’d?”—” The first’Mong those, of whom thou question’st,” he replied,“O’er many tongues was empress. She in viceOf luxury was so shameless, that she madeLiking be lawful by promulg’d decree,To clear the blame she had herself incurr’d.This is Semiramis, of whom ’tis writ,That she succeeded Ninus her espous’d;And held the land, which now the Soldan rules.The next in amorous fury slew herself,And to Sicheus’ ashes broke her faith:Then follows Cleopatra, lustful queen.”
There mark’d I Helen, for whose sake so longThe time was fraught with evil; there the greatAchilles, who with love fought to the end.Paris I saw, and Tristan; and besideA thousand more he show’d me, and by namePointed them out, whom love bereav’d of life.
When I had heard my sage instructor nameThose dames and knights of antique days, o’erpower’dBy pity, well-nigh in amaze my mindWas lost; and I began: “Bard! willinglyI would address those two together coming,Which seem so light before the wind.” He thus:“Note thou, when nearer they to us approach.Then by that love which carries them along,Entreat; and they will come.” Soon as the windSway’d them toward us, I thus fram’d my speech:“O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourseWith us, if by none else restrain’d.” As dovesBy fond desire invited, on wide wingsAnd firm, to their sweet nest returning home,Cleave the air, wafted by their will along;Thus issu’d from that troop, where Dido ranks,They through the ill air speeding; with such forceMy cry prevail’d by strong affection urg’d.
“O gracious creature and benign! who go’stVisiting, through this element obscure,Us, who the world with bloody stain imbru’d;If for a friend the King of all we own’d,Our pray’r to him should for thy peace arise,Since thou hast pity on our evil plight.()f whatsoe’er to hear or to discourseIt pleases thee, that will we hear, of thatFreely with thee discourse, while e’er the wind,As now, is mute. The land, that gave me birth,Is situate on the coast, where Po descendsTo rest in ocean with his sequent streams.
“Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt,Entangled him by that fair form, from meTa’en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still:Love, that denial takes from none belov’d,Caught me with pleasing him so passing well,That, as thou see’st, he yet deserts me not.Love brought us to one death: Caina waitsThe soul, who spilt our life.” Such were their words;At hearing which downward I bent my looks,And held them there so long, that the bard cried:“What art thou pond’ring?” I in answer thus:“Alas! by what sweet thoughts, what fond desireMust they at length to that ill pass have reach’d!”
Then turning, I to them my speech address’d.And thus began: “Francesca! your sad fateEven to tears my grief and pity moves.But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs,By what, and how love granted, that ye knewYour yet uncertain wishes?” She replied:“No greater grief than to remember daysOf joy, when mis’ry is at hand! That kensThy learn’d instructor. Yet so eagerlyIf thou art bent to know the primal root,From whence our love gat being, I will do,As one, who weeps and tells his tale. One dayFor our delight we read of Lancelot,How him love thrall’d. Alone we were, and noSuspicion near us. Ofttimes by that readingOur eyes were drawn together, and the hueFled from our alter’d cheek. But at one pointAlone we fell. When of that smile we read,The wished smile, rapturously kiss’dBy one so deep in love, then he, who ne’erFrom me shall separate, at once my lipsAll trembling kiss’d. The book and writer bothWere love’s purveyors. In its leaves that dayWe read no more.” While thus one spirit spake,The other wail’d so sorely, that heartstruckI through compassion fainting, seem’d not farFrom death, and like a corpse fell to the ground.