Canto XII. The Minotaur. The Seventh Circle: The Violent. The River Phlegethon. The Violent against their Neighbours. The Centaurs. Tyrants.

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      The place where to descend the bank we came

       Was alpine, and from what was there, moreover,

       Of such a kind that every eye would shun it.

      Such as that ruin is which in the flank

       Smote, on this side of Trent, the Adige,

       Either by earthquake or by failing stay,

      For from the mountain's top, from which it moved,

       Unto the plain the cliff is shattered so,

       Some path 'twould give to him who was above;

      Even such was the descent of that ravine,

       And on the border of the broken chasm

       The infamy of Crete was stretched along,

      Who was conceived in the fictitious cow;

       And when he us beheld, he bit himself,

       Even as one whom anger racks within.

      My Sage towards him shouted: "Peradventure

       Thou think'st that here may be the Duke of Athens,

       Who in the world above brought death to thee?

      Get thee gone, beast, for this one cometh not

       Instructed by thy sister, but he comes

       In order to behold your punishments."

      As is that bull who breaks loose at the moment

       In which he has received the mortal blow,

       Who cannot walk, but staggers here and there,

      The Minotaur beheld I do the like;

       And he, the wary, cried: "Run to the passage;

       While he wroth, 'tis well thou shouldst descend."

      Thus down we took our way o'er that discharge

       Of stones, which oftentimes did move themselves

       Beneath my feet, from the unwonted burden.

      Thoughtful I went; and he said: "Thou art thinking

       Perhaps upon this ruin, which is guarded

       By that brute anger which just now I quenched.

      Now will I have thee know, the other time

       I here descended to the nether Hell,

       This precipice had not yet fallen down.

      But truly, if I well discern, a little

       Before His coming who the mighty spoil

       Bore off from Dis, in the supernal circle,

      Upon all sides the deep and loathsome valley

       Trembled so, that I thought the Universe

       Was thrilled with love, by which there are who think

      The world ofttimes converted into chaos;

       And at that moment this primeval crag

       Both here and elsewhere made such overthrow.

      But fix thine eyes below; for draweth near

       The river of blood, within which boiling is

       Whoe'er by violence doth injure others."

      O blind cupidity, O wrath insane,

       That spurs us onward so in our short life,

       And in the eternal then so badly steeps us!

      I saw an ample moat bent like a bow,

       As one which all the plain encompasses,

       Conformable to what my Guide had said.

      And between this and the embankment's foot

       Centaurs in file were running, armed with arrows,

       As in the world they used the chase to follow.

      Beholding us descend, each one stood still,

       And from the squadron three detached themselves,

       With bows and arrows in advance selected;

      And from afar one cried: "Unto what torment

       Come ye, who down the hillside are descending?

       Tell us from there; if not, I draw the bow."

      My Master said: "Our answer will we make

       To Chiron, near you there; in evil hour,

       That will of thine was evermore so hasty."

      Then touched he me, and said: "This one is Nessus,

       Who perished for the lovely Dejanira,

       And for himself, himself did vengeance take.

      And he in the midst, who at his breast is gazing,

       Is the great Chiron, who brought up Achilles;

       That other Pholus is, who was so wrathful.

      Thousands and thousands go about the moat

       Shooting with shafts