DANTE'S SUBLIME COMEDY: HELL, Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Subvertors

If unrhymed prose could easier describe

            the blood and wounds appearing in that ditch,

            I’d certainly resort to it, Hell knows.                                     3

All speech falls short, there are no words to tell

            of all the carnage we enact on earth

            and re-enact repeatedly in Hell.                                              6

Below the bridge there seemed an endless flow

            of all those mutilated in the wars

            with Troy, Greece, Italy and Africa.                                      9

Gashed bloody bodies with sliced heads, stumped limbs,

            staggered along or hopped or crawled or reeled,

            their inner parts obscenely unconcealed.                                12

From chin to fart-hole one was so far split

            that all his entrails hung between his thighs

            with under those the bags of piss and shit.                            15

Seeing me stare he raised hands to his chest

            declaring, “See me divide myself,” then

            pulled the gap wider still, shouting aloud,                              18

“Thus is Mohammed maimed! Ali ahead

            is cleft from chin to hair. Everyone here

            created what the cowards call discord.                                   21

Behind us stands a demon with a sword

            who chops us up like this. Trailing again,

            again again around, we slowly heal                                         24

until feeling yet again his slicing steel.

            But who are you, standing upon that dyke?

            Is viewing punishment a thing you like                                  27

before you have to suffer with us too?”

            My master said, “He is not damned like you.

            I, who am dead, conduct this living man                                 30

to see all the conditions of the dead.”

            At this over a hundred in that ditch

            halted, forgot their wounds. Each raised his head                   33

to gape at me. Mohammed said, “When back

in Italy, see Brother Dolcino

leader of those who would restore the faith                           36

of Christians to old simplicity.

            Crusaders menace them and Muslims too.

            Tell them to get in food before the snows                              39

give victory to their Novarese foes.” 

Mohammed lurched away and then came one

half-headed, with an ear, nose, mouth sheared off.                 42

Out of his severed windpipe red with blood

            with sides that moved like lips, these words wheezed up:

            “O you alive and innocent! Unless                                         45

appearances deceive, we’ve met before

            on that sweet plain sloping from Vercello

            down to the mouth of Po. If you return,                                48

speak of Pier da Medicino. I

            was a scandal-monger there. Tell my friends

who govern Fano of their dreadful ends                                 51

prepared by one who means to grab their town.

            He will invite them for a peaceful talk

            and send a ship. Unless my words from Hell                         54

prevent, at sea they’ll be flung in to drown

            by Malestino, Whelp of Rimini.”

He was silenced by a yell, then explained                              57

“The name of Rimini is agony

            to one damned here for something he said there

            forty-nine years before the birth of Christ.”                          60

I said, “Yes, I will speak of you on earth,

            but first say why that name causes such woe.”

            At once Pier, gripping the yeller’s jaw,                                  63

wrenched the mouth open wide so that I saw

            the tongue slashed to a wordless stump inside.

            I cried, “But why, for what?” Pier replied,                            66

“A stream near Rimini called Rubicon

            was Italy’s frontier. Gaul’s conqueror

            and governor once halted there: Caesar,                                  69

his army too. Rome’s Senate had commanded

            that returning armies be disbanded

before they entered Italy, and so                                            70 

crossing that stream would lead to civil war.

            no wonder Caesar hesitated till

            Curio spoke: “Delay is dangerous                                          73

to men prepared. March on before too late.”

            Both he and Caesar marched on to their fate.

            He and I share the fate of those whose tongue                       76

has overflowed with bad persuasive speech.”

            A handless wretch came waving stumps which spouted

            blood that befouled his face. He shouted,                               79

“I, Mosca the Florentine began our

            civil war when I said, ‘Done is ended’ –

words that killed the Buendelmonte.”                                     82

I said, “Your kindred too”. He staggered off,

            maddened by grief. And then I saw a sight

            almost beyond belief. A headless man                                    85

ran to the bridge. One had held by the hair

            a head. He stopped and raised it lantern-like

            to see me nearer, help me hear it speak.                                 88

After a moan of deep despair it said,

            “O breathing soul, look at this mournful thing.

            Does greater misery than mine exist?                                     91

I am thus for dividing a young king

            from his father Henry King of England,

            as Achitophel goaded Absalom,                                             94

David’s son, to rebel against the head

            of Israel. So I am divided,

            body from brain. But carry news of me                                 97

back to the light of day – Betran de Born,

            lord of the great High Fort in Perigord,

            poet whose minstrelsy is known to you.                               100

Say also this retribution is my due.”

                                   

DANTE'S SUBLIME COMEDY: HELL, Chapter 27

Chapter 27: More Liars

The flame now burned erect and silently

            till my sweet poet said that it might go

            and so it did, but then another came                                       3

that clearly wished to speak with him also.

            The noise it made was first a roaring din

            like what poured from that red-hot metal bull                        6

when its inventor baked to death therein.

            Breaths in each flame were cries of agony

            till they articulated at the tip.                                                 9

We heard it say, “I aim my words at you

            who in my dialect, dismissed that Greek.

            Though scorching in this ditch I crave the speech                  12

of lovely Italy, and my ears know

            that you, like me, come from high lands between

            Urbino and the Tiber’s upper flow.                                       15

Romagna is where I committed crimes

            for which I burn. If newly come from there,

            please tell me if its states are still at war.”                             18

My guide, nudging my side said, “You reply.”

            Having leaned down to hear I quickly said,

            “You, hidden in flame below, should know                            21

your Romagna never will lack warfare

            in many scheming hearts of tyrants there.

            None were openly fighting when I left.                                  24

Ravenna stands as it has done for years.

            Speaking heraldically, I will say

            the Eagle of Polenta’s pinions still                                         27

guard it and Cervia. Forli, once saved

            by Guido Montefeltro from the French,

            is under the Green Lion’s claws. The jaws                             30

of dogs – Mastiff and Whelp – chew Rimini.

            Blue Lion, switching politics each year

holds onto Faenza and Imola.                                                 33 

Casena, between mountains and the plain,

            is torn between freedom and tyranny.

            Having replied, I beg to know your name,                              36

and make it spoken in the world again.”

            The flame roared louder, waved its point about

            more wildly, longer, before words came out.                          39

“If you could make my name spoken again

            by living men I would be dumb, but since

            only the dead come here I need not fear                                 42

to say how damnable I’ve been. I, Guido

            Montefeltro, am he who beat the French,

            as you have said – a thorough man of war                              45

who, in the flesh my mother bore, was more

            a fox than lion, skillful to mislead

            my many enemies in word and deed.                                      48

Thus I earned fame and praise, yet knew of One

            on high who forbids bloodshed, lying too.

            Time came when evil ways no longer pleased.                       51

­­ I hauled in sails and punted to the shore.     

Confession and repentance made me friar

wearing the slender cord St Francis wore.                              54

Alas, that did not save my soul from Hell.    

The highest priest of all Pope Boniface,

that princely Pharisee, asked me to help                                57

 destroy – not Saracens or Jews – his foes

were a Christian family, and those

had signed with him a pact to keep the peace.                       60

                       

Emperor Constantine sent for a Pope

to cure his leprosy. Pride infected

Pope Boniface. ‘You, only you,’ he said,                               63

‘Can cure the burning fever of my rage!’

He sounded drunk. I was afraid to speak.

Forgetting all he knew to keep us right –                                66

his supreme office, holy vows, himself,

the cord I wore to make me meek – he said,

‘Trust me, my son! I hold those keys the Pope                     69 

who held them last and did not use, the keys

of Heaven and Hell where my will is done,

as it is not on earth without a fight.                                        72

Show me how to defeat the Colonna and you

need not fear Hell. I absolve you of sin

if here and now you tell me how to beat                                75

their stronghold down and absolutely win.’

He ceased talking, waited for a reply

until silence must give offence. I said,                                    78

‘Holy father, if you have saved my soul

before I counsel you to act a lie,

you must now break your vow to keep peace.’                     81

He did. I sickened. To my deathbed came

Saint Francis and a coal-black cherubim

who roared, ‘No cheating! Penitence alone                             84

lets sinners dodge Hell. None can repent sin

while willing it – that is contradiction.

Amazed, are you, to find fiends logical?’                               87

He dragged my wretched soul down to Minos

who, enraged, wrapped his tail eight times around    

then bit it, howling, ‘Send him to where frauds                      90

wear the scorching gown that truly teaches

            penitence,’ and it does! It does! It does!”

Waving and twisting, the flame moved away,                        93

roaring aloud in wordless agony.

We left that ridge by climbing the next bridge

over the ninth malebolge, which was full                      96                   

of vile souls who divide humanity.

           

           

           

           

DANTE'S SUBLIME COMEDY: HELL, Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Liars

Florence rejoice, famous on land and sea

            where florins are the common currency.

            That crowds of thieves swarm from you into Hell                   3

cannot delight does not astonish me.

            Cardinal Prato tried and failed to quell

            the bitter feuding that corrupts your state                                6

and prayed for a total overthrow

            to end your boastful posturing.  I too

pray that this happens soon.  The more I wait                            12

the horrider must be my city’s fate.

            We left that dyke, set foot on the next bridge,

surmounting rocks so jagged and abrupt                                   15

we could not move without the help of hands

            and as we struggled up I grimly thought                                

of how so often mighty powers betray,                                        18

mislead so many.  Being a Florentine

            I swell with hope and pride when I survey

            the scope of what I plan to say in rhyme.                                21

What if my talent leads me far astray?

            I too must pray for more humility.

            At last we rested on the bridge’s height.                                  24       

As peasants, with the coming of the night,

            pause on a hillside before going down

            into a valley where the fireflies glow,                                       27

we stared into the malebolge below

            and saw a flow of sparks. “Each is a flame,”

            my master said, “Clothing a counsellor                                  30

whose lying words fooled people into war.”

            I shuddered, wondered could such words be mine?

            Could things I write become excuse for sin?                           33

I clutched the crag to stop me falling in

            before we climbed down to a nearer view

            some spires of moving fire within that ditch                            36

were taller than the rest and cleft in two.

            My master said, “Each of these double flames

            contains a pair united by their crime.                                        39

Here comes inventor of the wooden horse,

            Ulysees, with beside him Diomed

            who made the Trojans think it was a gift                                 42

proving the war was past, the Greeks had left.

            Both mourn within that fire their stratagem

            which burned down Troy, home of Aeneas                             45

who fled and founded Rome, as I have sung.

            They bemoan also other crafty tricks

            whose outcomes they did not see.” I cried out,                       48

“Master, if they can speak within their flame,

            please I pray you, please let them speak to me!”

            He said, “I like that prayer, so I agree.                                    51

Leave talk to me. Greeks will dispise your speech.”

            When the flame came to where my guide thought best

            I heard him cry, “Please pause, hear our request.                    54

We are poets wishing to be your friends.

            You alone can tell us what we never read

            in Homer’s poems – how you met your ends.”                      57

One flaming horn, the biggest of the pair

            first roared and wavered, as if struck by wind,

            then the point flickered, speaking like a tongue.                      60

“Bound home from Troy I lost my way, my men,

            my ships through storms, monsters and women’s wiles,

            so winning home at last I found myself                                   63

unfit for quiet life with wife and son.

            Choosing a crew of some I knew from Troy

            we put to sea, sailed west and reached that strait                      66

between Africa and Spain with before

only the boundless ocean. Then Hercules

has put a pillar on each shore inscribed                  69

with DO NOT GO THROUGH, so not many do.

            ‘Shipmates!’ said I, ‘Did we dare, share, survive

            a thousand dangers in search of rest? No.                               72

Greeks seek virtue and knowledge sought through strife

            the best part of life. Let us sail ahead,

            discover a new world, and if we fail                                         75

what grander way to end can old men find?’

            They cheered and plied their oars, would not have ceased

            to drive us onward had I changed my mind.                            78

We sailed for five moons south. Equator crossed,

            strange constellations shone above at night.

            Then to the east one day as dawn light spread                       81

we saw, dimmed by distance, a splendid sight –

            a land wider than Italy, rising

            high like a mountain far into the sky.                                      84

Our joy soon changed to grief. From that land came

            a storm that struck and whirled us three times round,

heaved our stern high, plunged the prow under waves       87

that closed above us. As fate willed, we drowned.”