The Divine Comedy (English Version)

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The Divine Comedy (English Version)

Dante Alighieri

TRANSLATED BY HENRY F. CARY

COTENTS

Introductory Note
  
Inferno [Hell]
Canto I
Canto II
Canto III
Canto IV
Canto V
Canto VI
Canto VII
Canto VIII
Canto IX
Canto X
Canto XI
Canto XII
Canto XIII
Canto XIV
Canto XV
Canto XVI
Canto XVII
Canto XVIII
Canto XIX
Canto XX
Canto XXI
Canto XXII
Canto XXIII
Canto XXIV
Canto XXV
Canto XXVI
Canto XXVII
Canto XXVIII
Canto XXIX
Canto XXX
Canto XXXI
Canto XXXII
Canto XXXIII
Canto XXXIV
  
Purgatory
Canto I
Canto II
Canto III
Canto IV
Canto V
Canto VI
Canto VII
Canto VIII
Canto IX
Canto X
Canto XI
Canto XII
Canto XIII
Canto XIV
Canto XV
Canto XVI
Canto XVII
Canto XVIII
Canto XIX
Canto XX
Canto XXI
Canto XXII
Canto XXIII
Canto XXIV
Canto XXV
Canto XXVI
Canto XXVII
Canto XXVIII
Canto XXIX
Canto XXX
Canto XXXI
Canto XXXII
Canto XXXIII
  
Paradise
Canto I
Canto II
Canto III
Canto IV
Canto V
Canto VI
Canto VII
Canto VIII
Canto IX
Canto X
Canto XI
Canto XII
Canto XIII
Canto XIV
Canto XV
Canto XVI
Canto XVII
Canto XVIII
Canto XIX
Canto XX
Canto XXI
Canto XXII
Canto XXIII
Canto XXIV
Canto XXV
Canto XXVI
Canto XXVII
Canto XXVIII
Canto XXIX
Canto XXX
Canto XXXI
Canto XXXII
Canto XXXIII
  
Glossary

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Introductory Note

  
  
  MUCH of the life of Dante Alighieri is obscure, and the known facts are surrounded by a haze of legend and conjecture. He was born in Florence in 1265, of a family noble but not wealthy. His early education is a matter of inference, but we know that he learned the art of writing verse from the poets of France and Provence, and that after he reached manhood he devoted much time to study and became profoundly learned. As a young man he saw military service and shared in the recreations of his contemporaries; and he married some time before he was thirty-two. In Dante’s day politics in Florence were exciting and dangerous; and after a few years of participation in public affairs he was condemned to death by his political enemies in 1302. He saved himself by exile, and never returned to his native town. The rest of his life was mainly spent wandering about the north of Italy, in Verona, Bologna, Pisa, Lucca, and finally Ravenna, where he died in 1321. During the years of his exile he found generous patrons in men like the heads of the Scala family in Verona and Guido Novello da Polenta in Ravenna; and at Bologna and elsewhere he was welcomed as a teacher.   1

  In the early part of the century in which Dante was born, the literary language of Tuscany was still Latin, and not the least of his services to his country was his influence in finally establishing the dignity of Italian as a medium for great literature. He himself used Latin in at least three works: his lecture “De Aqua et Terra”; his “De Monarchâ,” in which he expounded his Political theory of the relation of the Empire and the Papacy; and his unfinished “De Vulgari Eloquentia,” containing his defense of the use of Italian. More important, however, were his two great works in the vernacular, the “Vita Nuova,” a series of poems with prose commentary, on his love for Beatrice, and the “Divina Commedia.”   2

  The Beatrice, real or ideal, who plays so important a part in the poetry of Dante, is stated by Boccaccio to have been the daughter of Folco Portinari, a rich Florentine, and wife of the banker Simone dei Bardi. With this actual person Dante’s acquaintance seems to have been of the slightest; but, after the fashion of the chivalric lovers of the day, he took her as the object of his ideal devotion. She became for him, especially after her death in 1290, the center of a mystical devotion of extraordinary intensity, and appears in his masterpiece as the personification of heavenly enlightenment.   3

  The “Divine Comedy” was entitled by Dante himself merely “Commedia,” meaning a poetic composition in a style intermediate between the sustained nobility of tragedy, and the popular tone of elegy.” The word had no dramatic implication at that time, though it did involve a happy ending. The poem is the narrative of a journey down through Hell, up the mountain of Purgatory, and through the revolving heavens into the presence of God. In this aspect it belongs to the two familiar medieval literary types of the Journey and the Vision. It is also an allegory, representing under the symbolism of the stages and experiences of the journey, the history of a human soul, painfully struggling from sin through purification to the Beatific Vision. Other schemes of interpretation have been worked out and were probably intended, for Dante granted the medieval demand for a threefold and even fourfold signification in this type of writing.   4

  But the “Divine Comedy” belongs to still other literary forms than those mentioned. Professor Grandgent has pointed out that it is also an encyclopedia, a poem in praise of Woman, and an autobiography. It contains much of what Dante knew of theology and philosophy, of astronomy and cosmography, and fragments of a number of other branches of learning, so that its encyclopedia character is obvious. In making it a monument to Beatrice, he surpassed infinitely all the poetry devoted to the praise of women in an age when the deification of women was the commonplace of poetry. And finally he made it an autobiography—not a narrative of the external events of his life, but of the agony of his soul.   5

  Thus, in an altogether unique way, Dante summarizes the literature, the philosophy, the science, and the religion of the Middle Ages. Through the intensity of his capacity for experience, the splendor of his power of expression, and the depth of his spiritual and philosophic insight, he at once sums up and transcends a whole era of human history.

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Inferno [Hell]

  
Canto I
  
  
ARGUMENT.—The writer, having lost his way in a gloomy forest, and being hindered by certain wild beasts from ascending a mountain, is met by Virgil, who promises to show him the punishments of Hell, and afterward of Purgatory; and that he shall then be conducted by Beatrice into Paradise. He follows the Roman poet.
  
  
IN the midway 1 of this our mortal life,  
I found me in a gloomy wood, astray  
Gone from the path direct: and e’en to tell,  
It were no easy task, how savage wild  
That forest, how robust and rough its growth,         5
Which to remember only, my dismay  
Renews, in bitterness not far from death.  
Yet, to discourse of what there good befel,  
All else will I relate discover’d there.  
  How first I enter’d it I scarce can say,         10
Such sleepy dulness in that instant weigh’d  
My senses down, when the true path I left;  
But when a mountain’s foot I reach’d, where closed  
The valley that had pierced my heart with dread,  
I look’d aloft, and saw his shoulders broad         15
Already vested with that planet’s beam, 2  
Who leads all wanderers safe through every way.  
  Then was a little respite to the fear,  
That in my heart’s recesses deep had lain  
All of that night, so pitifully past:         20
And as a man, with difficult short breath,  
Forespent with toiling, ’scaped from sea to shore,  
Turns to the perilous wide waste, and stands  
At gaze; e’en so my spirit, that yet fail’d,  
Struggling with terror, turn’d to view the straits         25
That none hath passed and lived. My weary frame  
After short pause recomforted, again  
I journey’d on over that lonely steep,  
The hinder foot 3 still firmer. Scarce the ascent  
Began, when, lo! a panther, 4 nimble, light,         30
And cover’d with a speckled skin, appear’d;  
Nor, when it saw me, vanish’d; rather strove  
To check my onward going; that oft-times,  
With purpose to retrace my steps, I turn’d.  
  The hour was morning’s prime, and on his way         35
Aloft the sun ascended with those stars, 5  
That with him rose when Love Divine first moved  
Those its fair works: so that with joyous hope  
All things conspired to fill me, the gay skin  
Of that swift animal, the matin dawn,         40
And the sweet season. Soon that joy was chased.  
And by new dread succeeded, when in view  
A lion came, ’gainst me as it appear’d,  
With his head held aloft and hunger-mad,  
That e’en the air was fear-struck. A she-wolf         45
Was at his heels, who in her leanness seem’d  
Full of all wants, and many a land hath made  
Disconsolate ere now. She with such fear  
O’erwhelm’d me, at the sight of her appall’d,  
That of the height all hope I lost. As one,         50
Who, with his gain elated, sees the time  
When all unawares is gone, he inwardly  
Mourns with heart-griping anguish; such was I,  
Haunted by that fell beast, never at peace,  
Who coming o’er against me, by degrees         55
Impell’d me where the sun in silence rests.  
  While to the lower space with backward step  
I fell, my ken discern’d the form of one  
Whose voice seem’d faint through long disuse of speech.  
When him in that great desert I espied,         60
“Have mercy on me,” cried I out aloud,  
“Spirit! or living man! whate’er thou be.”  
  He answered: “Now not man, man once I was,  
And born of Lombard parents, Mantuans both  
By country, when the power of Julius yet         65
Was scarcely firm. At Rome my life was past,  
Beneath the mild Augustus, in the time  
Of fabled deities and false. A bard  
Was I, and made Anchises’ upright son  
The subject of my song, who came from Troy,         70
When the flames prey’d on Ilium’s haughty towers.  
But thou, say wherefore to such perils past  
Return’st thou? wherefore not this pleasant mount  
Ascendest, cause and source of all delight?”  
“And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring,         75
From which such copious floods of eloquence  
Have issued?” I with front abash’d replied.  
“Glory and light of all the tuneful train!  
May it avail me, that I long with zeal  
Have sought thy volume, and with love immense         80
Have conn’d it o’er. My master thou, and guide!  
Thou he from whom alone I have derived  
That style, which for its beauty into fame  
Exalts me. See the beast, from whom I fled.  
O save me from her, thou illustrious sage!         85
For every vein and pulse throughout my frame  
She hath made tremble.” He, soon as he saw  
That I was weeping, answer’d, “Thou must needs  
Another way pursue, if thou wouldst ’scape  
From out that savage wilderness. This beast,         90
At whom thou criest, her way will suffer none  
To pass, and no less hinderance makes than death:  
So bad and so accursed in her kind,  
That never sated is her ravenous will,  
Still after food more craving than before.         95
To many an animal in wedlock vile  
She fastens, and shall yet to many more,  
Until that greyhound 6 come, who shall destroy  
Her with sharp pain. He will not life support  
By earth nor its base metals, but by love,         100
Wisdom, and virtue; and his land shall be  
The land ’twixt either Feltro. 7 In his might  
Shall safety to Italia’s plains arise,  
For whose fair realm, Camilla, virgin pure,  
Nisus, Euryalus, and Turnus fell.         105
He, with incessant chase, through every town  
Shall worry, until he to hell at length  
Restore her, thence by envy first let loose.  
I, for thy profit pondering, now devise  
That thou mayst follow me; and I, thy guide,         110
Will lead thee hence through an eternal space,  
Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks, and see  
Spirits of old tormented, who invoke  
A second death; 8 and those next view, who dwell  
Content in fire, 9 for that they hope to come,         115
Whene’er the time may be, among the blest,  
Into whose regions if thou then desire  
To ascend, a spirit worthier 10 than I  
Must lead thee, in whose charge, when I depart,  
Thou shalt be left; for that Almighty King,         120
Who reigns above, a rebel to His law  
Adjudges me; and therefore hath decreed  
That, to His city, none through me should come.  
He in all parts hath sway; there rules, there holds  
His citadel and throne. O happy those,         125
Whom there He chuses!” I to him in few:  
“Bard! by that God, whom thou didst not adore,  
I do beseech thee (that this ill and worse  
I may escape) to lead me where thou said’st,  
That I Saint Peter’s gate 11 may view, and those         130
Who, as thou tell’st, are in such dismal plight.”  
  Onward he moved, I close his steps pursued.  
  
Note 1. “In the midway.” The era of the poem is intended by these words to be fixed to the thirty-fifth year of the poet’s age, A. D. 1300. In this Convito, human life is compared to an arch or bow, the highest point of which is, in those well framed by nature, at their thirty-fifth year.  
Note 2. “That planet’s beam.” The sun.  
Note 3. “The hinder foot.” In ascending a hill the weight of the body rests on the hinder foot.  
Note 4. “A panther.” Pleasure or luxury.  
Note 5. “With those stars.” The sun was in Aries, in which sign he supposes it to have begun its course at the creation.  
Note 6. This passage has been commonly understood as a eulogium on the liberal spirit of his Veronese patron, Can Grande della Scala.  
Note 7. Verona, the country of Can della Scala, is situated between Feltro, a city in the Marca Trivigiana, and Monte Feltro, a city in the territory of Urbino.  
Note 8. “A second death.” “And in these days men shall seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.” Rev. ix. 6  
Note 9. The spirits in Purgatory.  
Note 10. “A spirit worthier.” Beatrice, who conducts the Poet through Paradise.  
Note 11. The gate of Purgatory, which the Poet feigns to be guarded by an angel placed there by St. Peter.  

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Canto II

ARGUMENT.—After the invocation, which poets are used to prefix to their works, he shows that, on a consideration of his own strength, he doubted whether it sufficed for the journey proposed to him, but that, being comforted by Virgil, he at last took courage, and followed him as his guide and master.
  
  
NOW was the day departing, and the air,  
Imbrown’d with shadows, from their toils released  
All animals on earth; and I alone  
Prepared myself the conflict to sustain,  
Both of sad pity, and that perilous road,         5
Which my unerring memory shall retrace.  
  O Muses! O high genius! now vouchsafe  
Your aid. O mind! that all I saw hast kept  
Safe in a written record, here thy worth  
And eminent endowments come to proof.         10
  I thus began: “Bard! thou who art my guide,  
Consider well, if virtue be in me  
Sufficient, ere to this high enterprise  
Thou trust me. Thou hast told that Silvius’ sire, 1  
Yet clothed in corruptible flesh, among         15
The immortal tribes had entrance, and was there  
Sensibly present. Yet if Heaven’s great Lord,  
Almighty foe to ill, such favor show’d  
In contemplation of the high effect,  
Both what and who from him should issue forth,         20
It seems in reason’s judgment well deserved;  
Sith he of Rome and of Rome’s empire wide,  
In Heaven’s imperial height was chosen sire:  
Both which, if truth be spoken, were ordain’d  
And stablish’d for the holy place, where sits         25
Who to great Peter’s sacred chair succeeds.  
He from this journey, in thy song renown’d,  
Learn’d things, that to his victory gave rise  
And to the papal robe. In after-times  
The Chosen Vessel 2 also travel’d there,         30
To bring us back assurance in that faith  
Which is the entrance to salvation’s way.  
But I, why should I there presume? or who  
Permits it? not Æneas I, nor Paul.  
Myself I deem not worthy, and none else         35
Will deem me. I, if on this voyage then  
I venture, fear it will in folly end.  
Thou, who art wise, better my meaning know’st,  
Than I can speak.” As one, who unresolves  
What he hath late resolved, and with new thoughts         40
Changes his purpose, from his first intent  
Removed; e’en such was I on that dun coast,  
Wasting in thought my enterprise, at first  
So eagerly embraced. “If right thy words  
I scan,” replied that shade magnanimous,         45
“Thy soul is by vile fear assail’d, which oft  
So overcasts a man, that he recoils  
From noblest resolution, like a beast  
At some false semblance in the twilight gloom.  
That from this terror thou mayst free thyself,         50
I will instruct thee why I came, and what  
I heard in that same instant, when for thee  
Grief touch’d me first. I was among the tribe,  
Who rest suspended, 3 when a dame, so blest  
And lovely I besought her to command,         55
Call’d me; her eyes were brighter than the star  
Of day; and she, with gentle voice and soft,  
Angelically tuned, her speech address’d:  
‘O courteous shade of Mantua! thou whose fame  
Yet lives, and shall live long as nature lasts!         60
A friend, not of my fortune but myself,  
On the wide desert in his road has met  
Hindrance so great, that he through fear has turn’d.  
Now much I dread lest he past help have stray’d,  
And I be risen too late for his relief,         65
From what in heaven of him I heard. Speed now,  
And by thy eloquent persuasive tongue,  
And by all means for his deliverance meet,  
Assist him. So to me will comfort spring.  
I, who now bid thee on this errand forth,         70
Am Beatrice; 4 from a place I come  
Revisited with joy. Love brought me thence,  
Who prompts my speech. When in my Master’s sight  
I stand, thy praise to him I oft will tell.’  
  “She then was silent, and I thus began:         75
‘O Lady! by whose influence alone  
Mankind excels whatever is contain’d  
Within that heaven which hath the smallest orb,  
So thy command delights me, that to obey,  
If it were done already, would seem late.         80
No need hast thou further to speak thy will:  
Yet tell the reason, why thou art not loth  
To leave that ample space, where to return  
Thou burnest, for this centre here beneath.’  
  “She then: ‘Since thou so deeply wouldst inquire,         85
I will instruct thee briefly why no dread  
Hinders my entrance here. Those things alone  
Are to be fear’d whence evil may proceed;  
None else, for none are terrible beside.  
I am so framed by God, thanks to His grace!         90
That any sufferance of your misery  
Touches me not, nor flame of that fierce fire  
Assails me. In high Heaven a blessed Dame 5  
Resides, who mourns with such effectual grief  
That hindrance, which I send thee to remove,         95
That God’s stern judgment to her will inclines.’  
To Lucia, 6 calling, her she thus bespake:  
‘Now doth thy faithful servant need thy aid,  
And I commend him to thee.’ At her word  
Sped Lucia, of all cruelty the foe,         100
And coming to the place, where I abode  
Seated with Rachel, her of ancient days,  
She thus address’d me: “Thou true praise of God!  
Beatrice! why is not thy succour lent  
To him, who so much loved thee, as to leave         105
For thy sake all the multitude admires?  
Dost thou not hear how pitiful his wail,  
Nor mark the death, which in the torrent flood,  
Swoln mightier than a sea, him struggling holds?”  
Ne’er among men did any with such speed         110
Haste to their profit, flee from their annoy,  
As, when these words were spoken, I came here,  
Down from my blessed seat, trusting the force  
Of thy pure eloquence, which thee, and all  
Who well have mark’d it, into honor brings.’         115
  “When she had ended, her bright beaming eyes  
Tearful she turn’d aside; whereat I felt  
Redoubled zeal to serve thee. As she will’d,  
Thus am I come: I saved thee from the beast,  
Who thy near way across the goodly mount         120
Prevented. What is this comes o’er thee than?  
Why, why dost thou hang back? why in thy breast  
Harbour vile fear? why hast not courage there,  
And noble daring; since three maids, 7 so blest,  
Thy safety plan, e’en in the court of Heaven;         125
And so much certain good my words forebode?”  
  As florets, by the frosty air of night  
Bent down and closed, when day has blanch’d their leaves,  
Rise all unfolded on their spiry stems;  
So was my fainting vigor new restored,         130
And to my heart such kindly courage ran,  
That I as one undaunted soon replied:  
“O full of pity she, who undertook  
My succour! and thou kind, who didst perform  
So soon her true behest! With such desire         135
Thou hast disposed me to renew my voyage,  
That my first purpose fully is resumed.  
Lead on: one only will is in us both.  
Thou art my guide, my master thou, and lord,”  
  So spake I; and when he had onward moved,         140
I enter’d on the deep and woody way.  
  
Note 1. “Silvius’ sire.” Æneas.  
Note 2. “The Chosen Vessel.” St. Paul.  
Note 3. The spirits in Limbo, neither admitted to a state of glory nor doomed to punishment.  
Note 4. “Beatrice.” The daughter of Folco Portinari, who is here invested with the character of celestial wisdom or theology.  
Note 5. “A blessed Dame.” The Divine Mercy.  
Note 6. “Lucia.” The enlightening Grace of Heaven; as it is commonly explained.  
Note 7. “Three maids.” The Divine Mercy, Lucia and Beatrice.

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Canto III

  
  
ARGUMENT.—Dante, following Virgil, comes to the gate of Hell; where, after having read the dreadful words that are written thereon, they both enter. Here, as he understands from Virgil, those were punished who had passed their time (for living it could not be called) in a state of apathy and indifference both to good and evil. Then, pursuing their way, they arrive at the river Acheron; and there find the old ferryman Charon, who takes the spirits over to the opposite shore; which, as soon as Dante reaches, he is seized with terror, and falls into a trance.
  
  
“THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe:  
Through me you pass into eternal pain:  
Through me among the people lost for aye.  
Justice the founder of my fabric moved:  
To rear me was the task of Power divine,         5
Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love. 1  
Before me things create were none, save things  
Eternal, and eternal I endure.  
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”  
  Such characters, in color dim, I mark’d         10
Over a portal’s lofty arch inscribed.  
Whereat I thus: “Master, these words import  
Hard meaning.” He as one prepared replied:  
“Here thou must all distrust behind thee leave;  
Here be vile fear extinguish’d. We are come         15
Where I have told thee we shall see the souls  
To misery doom’d, who intellectual good  
Have lost.” And when his hand he had stretch’d forth  
To mine, with pleasant looks, whence I was cheer’d,  
Into that secret place he led me on.         20
  Here sighs, with lamentations and loud moans,  
Resounded through the air pierced by no star,  
That e’en I wept at entering. Various tongues,  
Horrible languages, outcries of woe,  
Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse,         25
With hands together smote that swell’d the sounds,  
Made up a tumult, that forever whirls  
Round through that air with solid darkness stain’d,  
Like to the sand that in the whirlwind flies.  
  I then, with horror yet encompast, cried:         30
“O master! what is this I hear? what race  
Are these, who seem so overcome with woe?”  
  He thus to me: “This miserable fate  
Suffer the wretched souls of those, who lived  
Without or praise or blame, with that ill band         35
Of angels mix’d, who nor rebellious proved,  
Nor yet were true to God, but for themselves  
Were only. From his bounds Heaven drove them forth  
Not to impair his lustre; nor the depth  
Of Hell receives them, lest the accursed tribe         40
Should glory thence with exultation vain.”  
  I then: “Master! what doth aggrieve them thus,  
That they lament so loud?” He straight replied:  
“That will I tell thee briefly. These of death  
No hope may entertain: and their blind life         45
So meanly passes, that all other lots  
They envy. Fame of them the world hath none,  
Nor suffers; Mercy and Justice scorn them both.  
Speak not of them, but look, and pass them by.”  
  And I, who straightway look’d, beheld a flag,         50
Which whirling ran around so rapidly,  
That it no pause obtain’d: and following came  
Such a long train of spirits, I should ne’er  
Have thought that death so many had despoil’d.  
  When some of these I recognized, I saw         55
And knew the shade of him, who to base fear 2  
Yielding, abjured his high estate. Forthwith  
I understood, for certain, this the tribe  
Of those ill spirits both to God displeasing  
And to His foes. These wretches, who ne’er lived,         60
Went on in nakedness, and sorely stung  
By wasps and hornets, which bedew’d their cheeks  
With blood, that, mix’d with tears, dropp’d to their feet,  
And by disgustful worms was gather’d there.  
  Then looking further onwards, I beheld         65
A throng upon the shore of a great stream:  
Whereat I thus: “Sir! grant me now to know  
Whom here we view, and whence impell’d they seem  
So eager to pass o’er, as I discern  
Through the blear light?” He thus to me in few:         70
“This shalt thou know, soon as our steps arrive  
Beside the woful tide of Acheron.”  
  Then with eyes downward cast, and fill’d with shame,  
Fearing my words offensive to his ear,  
Till we had reach’d the river, I from speech         75
Abstain’d. And lo! toward us in a bark  
Comes on an old man, hoary white with eld,  
Crying, “Woe to you, wicked spirits! hope not  
Ever to see the sky again. I come  
To take you to the other shore across,         80
Into eternal darkness, there to dwell  
In fierce heat and in ice. And thou, who there  
Standest, live spirit! get thee hence, and leave  
These who are dead.” But soon as he beheld  
I left them not, “By other way,” said he,         85
“By other haven shalt thou come to shore,  
Not by this passage; thee a nimbler boat  
Must carry.” Then to him thus spake my guide:  
“Charon! thyself torment not: so ’tis will’d,  
Where will and power are one: ask thou no more.”         90
  Straightway in silence fell the shaggy cheeks  
Of him, the boatman o’er the livid lake,  
Around whose eyes glared wheeling flames. Meanwhile  
Those spirits, faint and naked, color changed,  
And gnash’d their teeth, soon as the cruel words         95
They heard. God and their parents they blasphemed,  
The human kind, the place, the time, and seed,  
That did engender them and give them birth,  
  Then all together sorely wailing drew  
To the curst strand, that every man must pass         100
Who fears not God. Charon, demoniac form,  
With eyes of burning coal, collects them all,  
Beckoning, and each, that lingers, with his oar  
Strikes. As fall off the light autumnal leaves  
One still another following, till the bough         105
Strews all its honours on the earth beneath;  
E’en in like manner Adam’s evil brood  
Cast themselves, one by one, down from the shore,  
Each at a beck, as falcon at his call. 3  
  Thus go they over through the umber’d wave;         110
And ever they on the opposing bank  
Be landed, on this side another throng  
Still gathers. “Son,” thus spake the courteous guide,  
“Those who die subject to the wrath of God  
All here together come from every clime         115
And to o’erpass the river are not loth:  
For so Heaven’s justice goads them on, that fear  
Is turn’d into desire. Hence ne’er hath past  
Good spirit. If of thee Charon complain,  
Now mayst thou know the import of his words.”         120
  This said, the gloomy region trembling shook  
So terribly, that yet with clammy dews  
Fear chills my brow. The sad earth gave a blast,  
That, lightening, shot forth a vermilion flame,  
Which all my senses conquer’d quite, and I         125
Down dropp’d, as one with sudden slumber seized.  
  
Note 1. “Power,” Wisdom,” “Love,” the three Persons of the Blessed Trinity.

Note 2. This is commonly understood of Celestine V, who abdicated the papal power in 1249. Venturi mentions a work written by Innocenzio Barcellini, of the Celestine order, and printed at Milan in 1701, in which an attempt is made to put a different interpretation on this passage. Lombardi would apply it to some one of Dante’s fellow-citizens, who, refusing, through avarice or want of spirit, to support the party of the Bianchi at Florence, had been the main occasion of the miseries that befell them. But the testimony of Fazio degli Uberti, who lived so near the time of our author, seems almost decisive on this point. He expressly speaks of the Pope Celestine as being in Hell. [back]
Note 3. “As a falcon at his call.” This is Vellutello’s explanation, and seems preferable to that commonly given: “as a bird that is enticed to the cage by the call of another.”