The Divine Comedy (Illustrated Edition). Dante Alighieri
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for having supposed that the angel attributes this exploit to Hercules, a fabulous hero, rather than to our Saviour, It would seem as if the good father had forgotten that Cerberus is himself no less a creature of the imagination than the hero who encountered him.
5 “The plains of Arles.” In Provence. These sepulchres are mentioned in the Life of Charlemagne, which has been attributed to Archbishop Turpin, cap. 28, and 30, and by Fazio degli Uberti, Dittamondo, L. iv. cap. xxi.
6 “At Pola.” A city of Istria, situated near the gulf of Quarnaro, in the Adriatic Sea.
Canto X
ARGUMENT.—Dante, having obtained permission from his guide, holds discourse with Farinata degli Uberti and Cavalcante Cavalcanti, who lie in their fiery tombs that are yet open, and not to be closed up till after the last judgment. Farinata predicts the Poet’s exile from Florence; and shows him that the condemned have knowledge of future things, but are ignorant of what is at present passing, unless it be revealed by some newcomer from earth.
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 orbs
In 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 none
O’er them keeps watch.” He thus in answer spake
“They shall be closed all, what-time they here
From Josaphat1 return’d shall come, and bring
Their bodies, which above they now have left.
The cemetery on this part obtain
With Epicurus all his followers,
Who with the body make the spirit die.
Here therefore satisfaction shall be soon
Both to the question ask’d, and to the wish,2
Which thou conceal’st in silence.” I replied:
“I keep not, guide belov’d! from thee my heart
Secreted, but to shun vain length of words,
A lesson erewhile taught me by thyself.”
“O Tuscan! thou who through the city of fire
Alive art passing, so discreet of speech!
Here please thee stay awhile. Thy utterance
Declares the place of thy nativity
To be that noble land, with which perchance
I too severely dealt.” Sudden that sound
Forth issu’d from a vault, whereat in fear
I somewhat closer to my leader’s side
Approaching, he thus spake: “What dost thou? Turn.
Lo, Farinata,3 there! who hath himself
Uplifted: from his girdle upwards all
Expos’d behold him.” On his face was mine
Already fix’d; his breast and forehead there
Erecting, seem’d as in high scorn he held
E’en hell. Between the sepulchres to him
My 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 mood
Address’d me: “Say, what ancestors were thine?”
I, willing to obey him, straight reveal’d
The whole, nor kept back aught: whence he, his brow
Somewhat uplifting, cried: “Fiercely were they
Adverse to me, my party, and the blood
From whence I sprang: twice4 therefore I abroad
Scatter’d them.” “Though driv’n out, yet they each time
From all parts,” answer’d I, “return’d; an art
Which yours have shown, they are not skill’d to learn.”
Then, peering forth from the unclosed jaw,
Rose from his side a shade,5 high as the chin,
Leaning, methought, upon its knees uprais’d.
It look’d around, as eager to explore
If there were other with me; but perceiving
That fond imagination quench’d, with tears
Thus spake: “If thou through this blind prison go’st.
Led by thy lofty genius and profound,
Where is my son?6 and wherefore not with thee?”
I straight replied: “Not of myself I come,
By him, who there expects me, through this clime
Conducted, whom perchance Guido thy son
Had in contempt.”7 Already had his words
And mode of punishment read me his name,
Whence I so fully answer’d. He at once
Exclaim’d, up starting, “How! said’st thou he HAD?
No longer lives he? Strikes not on his eye
The blessed daylight?” Then of some delay
I made ere my reply aware, down fell
Supine, not after forth appear’d he more.
Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whom
I 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