Canto XXXII. The Ninth Circle: Traitors. The Frozen Lake of Cocytus. First Division, Caina: Traitors to their Kindred. Camicion de' Pazzi. Second Division, Antenora: Traitors to their Country. Dante questions Bocca degli Abati. Buoso da Duera.

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      If I had rhymes both rough and stridulous,

       As were appropriate to the dismal hole

       Down upon which thrust all the other rocks,

      I would press out the juice of my conception

       More fully; but because I have them not,

       Not without fear I bring myself to speak;

      For 'tis no enterprise to take in jest,

       To sketch the bottom of all the universe,

       Nor for a tongue that cries Mamma and Babbo.

      But may those Ladies help this verse of mine,

       Who helped Amphion in enclosing Thebes,

       That from the fact the word be not diverse.

      O rabble ill-begotten above all,

       Who're in the place to speak of which is hard,

       'Twere better ye had here been sheep or goats!

      When we were down within the darksome well,

       Beneath the giant's feet, but lower far,

       And I was scanning still the lofty wall,

      I heard it said to me: "Look how thou steppest!

       Take heed thou do not trample with thy feet

       The heads of the tired, miserable brothers!"

      Whereat I turned me round, and saw before me

       And underfoot a lake, that from the frost

       The semblance had of glass, and not of water.

      So thick a veil ne'er made upon its current

       In winter-time Danube in Austria,

       Nor there beneath the frigid sky the Don,

      As there was here; so that if Tambernich

       Had fallen upon it, or Pietrapana,

       E'en at the edge 'twould not have given a creak.

      And as to croak the frog doth place himself

       With muzzle out of water,—when is dreaming

       Of gleaning oftentimes the peasant-girl,—

      Livid, as far down as where shame appears,

       Were the disconsolate shades within the ice,

       Setting their teeth unto the note of storks.

      Each one his countenance held downward bent;

       From mouth the cold, from eyes the doleful heart

       Among them witness of itself procures.

      When round about me somewhat I had looked,

       I downward turned me, and saw two so close,

       The hair upon their heads together mingled.

      "Ye who so strain your breasts together, tell me,"

       I said, "who are you;" and they bent their necks,

       And when to me their faces they had lifted,

      Their eyes, which first were only moist within,

       Gushed o'er the eyelids, and the frost congealed

       The tears between, and locked them up again.

      Clamp never bound together wood with wood

       So strongly; whereat they, like two he-goats,

       Butted together, so much wrath o'ercame them.

      And one, who had by reason of the cold

       Lost both his ears, still with his visage downward,

       Said: "Why dost thou so mirror thyself in us?

      If thou desire to know who these two are,

       The valley whence Bisenzio descends

       Belonged to them and to their father Albert.

      They from one body came, and all Caina

       Thou shalt search through, and shalt not find a shade

       More worthy to be fixed in gelatine;

      Not he in whom were broken breast and shadow

       At one and the same blow by Arthur's hand;

       Focaccia not; not he who me encumbers

      So with his head I see no farther forward,

       And bore the name of Sassol Mascheroni;

       Well knowest thou who he was, if thou art Tuscan.

      And that thou put me not to further speech,

       Know that I Camicion de' Pazzi was,

       And wait Carlino to exonerate me."

      Then I beheld a thousand faces, made

       Purple with cold; whence o'er me comes a shudder,

       And evermore will come, at frozen ponds.

      And while we were advancing tow'rds the middle,

       Where everything of weight unites together,

       And I was shivering in the eternal shade,

      Whether 'twere will, or destiny, or chance,

       I know not; but in walking 'mong the heads

       I struck my foot hard in the face of one.

      Weeping he growled: "Why dost thou trample me?

       Unless thou comest to increase the vengeance

       of Montaperti, why dost thou molest me?"

      And I: "My Master, now wait here for me,