| |
| WHAT time resentment burn’d in Juno’s breast | |
| From Semele against the Theban blood, | |
| As more than once in dire mischance was rued; | |
| Such fatal frenzy seized on Athamas, | |
| That he his spouse beholding with a babe | 5 |
| Laden on either arm, “Spread out,” he cried, | |
| “The meshes, that I take the lioness | |
| And the young lions at the pass:” then forth | |
| Stretch’d he his merciless talons, grasping one, | |
| One helpless innocent, Learchus named, | 10 |
| Whom swinging down he dash’d upon a rock; | |
| And with her other burden, self-destroy’d, | |
| The hapless mother plunged. And when the pride | |
| Of all presuming Troy fell from its height, | |
| By fortune overwhelm’d, and the old king | 15 |
| With his realm perish’d; then did Hecuba, | |
| A wretch forlorn and captive, when she saw | |
| Polyxena first slaughter’d, and her son, | |
| Her Polydorus, on the wild sea-beach | |
| Next met the mourner’s view, then reft of sense | 20 |
| Did she run barking even as a dog; | |
| Such mighty power had grief to wrench her soul. | |
| But ne’er the Furies, or of Thebes, or Troy, | |
| With such fell cruelty were seen, their goads | |
| Infixing in the limbs of man or beast, | 25 |
| As now two pale and naked ghosts I saw, | |
| That gnarling wildly scamper’d, like the swine | |
| Excluded from his stye. One reach’d Capocchio, | |
| And in the neck-joint sticking deep his fangs, | |
| Dragg’d him, that, o’er the solid pavement rubb’d | 30 |
| His belly stretch’d out prone. The other shape, | |
| He of Arezzo, there left trembling, spake: | |
| “That sprite of air is Schicchi; 1 in like mood | |
| Of random mischief vents he still his spite.” | |
| To whom I answering: “Oh! as thou dost hope | 35 |
| The other may not flesh its jaws on thee, | |
| Be patient to inform us, who it is, | |
| Ere it speed hence.”—“That is the ancient soul | |
| Of wretched Myrrha,” he replied, “who burn’d | |
| With most unholy flame for her own sire, | 40 |
| And a false shape assuming, so perform’d | |
| The deed of sin; e’en as the other there, | |
| That onward passes, dared to counterfeit | |
| Donati’s features, to feign’d testament | |
| The seal affixing, that himself might gain, | 45 |
| For his own share, the lady of the herd.” | |
| When vanish’d the two furious shades, on whom | |
| Mine eye was held, I turn’d it back to view | |
| The other cursed spirits. One I saw | |
| In fashion like a lute, had but the groin | 50 |
| Been sever’d where it meets the forked part. | |
| Swoln dropsy, disproportioning the limbs | |
| With ill-converted moisture, that the paunch | |
| Suits not the visage, open’d wide his lips, | |
| Gasping as in the hectic man for drought, | 55 |
| One toward the chin, the other upward curl’d. | |
| “O ye! who in this world of misery, | |
| Wherefore I know not, are exempt from pain,” | |
| Thus he began, “attentively regard | |
| Adamo’s woe. 2 When living, full supply | 60 |
| Ne’er lack’d me of what most I coveted; | |
| One drop of water now, alas! I crave. | |
| The rills, that glitter down the grassy slopes | |
| Of Casentino, 3 making fresh and soft | |
| The banks whereby they glide to Arno’s stream, | 65 |
| Stand ever in my view; and not in vain; | |
| For more the pictured semblance dries me up, | |
| Much more than the disease, which makes the flesh | |
| Desert these shrivel’d cheeks. So from the place, | |
| Where I transgress’d, stern justice urging me, | 70 |
| Takes means to quicken more my laboring sighs. | |
| There is Romena, where I falsified | |
| The metal with the Baptist’s form imprest, | |
| For which on earth I left my body burnt. | |
| But if I here might see the sorrowing soul | 75 |
| Of Guido, Alessandro, or their brother, | |
| For Branda’s limpid spring 4 I would not change | |
| The welcome sight. One is e’en now within, | |
| If truly the mad spirits tell, that round | |
| Are wandering. But wherein besteads me that? | 80 |
| My limbs are fetter’d. Were I but so light, | |
| That I each hundred years might move one inch, | |
| I had set forth already on this path, | |
| Seeking him out amidst the shapeless crew, | |
| Although eleven miles it wind, not less | 85 |
| Than half of one across. They brought me down | |
| Among this tribe; induced by them, I stamp’d | |
| The florens with three carats of alloy. 5 | |
| “Who are that abject pair,” I next inquired, | |
| “That closely bounding thee upon thy right | 90 |
| Lie smoking, like a hand in winter steep’d | |
| In the chill stream?”—“When to this gulf I dropp’d,” | |
| He answer’d, “here I found them; since that hour | |
| They have not turn’d, nor ever shall, I ween, | |
| Till time hath run his course. One is that dame, | 95 |
| The false accuser 6 of the Hebrew youth; | |
| Sinon the other, that false Greek from Troy. | |
| Sharp fever drains the reeky moistness out, | |
| In such a cloud upsteam’d.” When that he heard, | |
| One, gall’d perchance to be so darkly named, | 100 |
| With clench’d hand smote him on the braced paunch, | |
| That like a drum resounded: but forthwith | |
| Adamo smote him on the face, the blow | |
| Returning with his arm, that seem’d as hard. | |
| “Though my o’er weighty limbs have ta’en from me | 105 |
| The power to move,” said he, “I have an arm | |
| At liberty for such employ.” To whom | |
| Was answer’d: “When thou wentest to the fire, | |
| Thou hadst it not so ready at command; | |
| Then readier when it coin’d the impostor gold.” | 110 |
| And thus the dropsied: “Ay, now speak’st thou true: | |
| But there thou gavest not such true testimony, | |
| When thou wast question’d of the truth, at Troy.” | |
| “If I spake false, thou falsely stamp’dst the coin,” | |
| Said Sinon; “I am here for but one fault, | 115 |
| And thou for more than any imp beside.” | |
| “Remember,” he replied, “O perjured one! | |
| The horse remember, that did teem with death; | |
| And all the world be witness to thy guilt.” | |
| “To thine,” return’d the Greek, “witness the thirst | 120 |
| Whence thy tongue cracks, witness the fluid mound | |
| Rear’d by thy belly up before thine eyes, | |
| A mass corrupt.” To whom the coiner thus: | |
| “Thy mouth gapes wide as ever to let pass | |
| Its evil saying. Me if thirst assails, | 125 |
| Yet I am stuft with moisture. Thou art parch’d: | |
| Pains rack thy head: no urging wouldst thou need | |
| To make thee lap Narcissus’ mirror up.” | |
| I was all fix’d to listen, when my guide | |
| Admonish’d: “Now beware. A little more, | 130 |
| And I do quarrel with thee.” I perceived | |
| How angrily he spake, and toward him turn’d | |
| With shame so poignant, as remember’d yet | |
| Confounds me. As a man that dreams of harm | |
| Befallen him, dreaming wishes it a dream, | 135 |
| And that which is, desires as if it were not; | |
| Such then was I, who, wanting power to speak, | |
| Wish’d to excuse myself, and all the while | |
| Excused me, though unweeting that I did. | |
| “More grievous fault than thine has been, less shame,” | 140 |
| My master cried, “might expiate. Therefore cast | |
| All sorrow from thy soul; and if again | |
| Chance bring thee, where like conference is held, | |
| Think I am ever at thy side. To hear | |
| Such wrangling is a joy for vulgar minds.” | 145 |
