| |
| WOE to thee, Simon Magus! woe to you, | |
| His wretched followers! who the things of God, | |
| Which should be wedded unto goodness, them, | |
| Rapacious as ye are, do prostitute | |
| For gold and silver in adultery. | 5 |
| Now must the trumpet sound for you, since yours | |
| Is the third chasm. Upon the following vault | |
| We now had mounted, where the rock impends | |
| Directly o’er the centre of the foss. | |
| Wisdom Supreme! how wonderful the art, | 10 |
| Which Thou dost manifest in Heaven, in earth, | |
| And in the evil world, how just a meed | |
| Allotting by Thy virtue unto all. | |
| I saw the livid stone, throughout the sides | |
| And in its bottom full of apertures, | 15 |
| All equal in their width, and circular each. | |
| Nor ample less nor larger they appear’d | |
| Than, in Saint John’s fair dome 1 of me beloved, | |
| Those framed to hold the pure baptismal streams, | |
| One of the which I brake, some few years past, | 20 |
| To save a whelming infant: and be this | |
| A seal to undeceive whoever doubts | |
| The motive of my deed. From out the mouth | |
| Of every one emerged a sinner’s feet, | |
| And of the legs high upward as the calf. | 25 |
| The rest beneath was hid. On either foot | |
| The soles were burning; whence the flexile joints | |
| Glanced with such violent motion, as had snapt | |
| Asunder cords or twisted withes. As flame, | |
| Feeding on unctuous matter, glides along | 30 |
| The surface, scarcely touching where it moves; | |
| So here, from heel to point, glided the flames. | |
| “Master! say who is he, than all the rest | |
| Glancing in fiercer agony, on whom | |
| A ruddier flame doth prey?” I thus inquired. | 35 |
| “If thou be willing,” he replied. “that I | |
| Carry thee down, where least the slope bank falls, | |
| He of himself shall tell thee, and his wrongs.” | |
| I then: “As pleases thee, to me is best. | |
| Thou art my lord; and know’st that ne’er I quit | 40 |
| Thy will: what silence hides, that knowest thou.” | |
| Thereat on the fourth pier we came, we turn’d | |
| And on our left descended to the depth, | |
| A narrow strait, and perforated close. | |
| Nor from his side my leader set me down, | 45 |
| Till to his orifice he brought, whose limb | |
| Quivering express’d his pang. “Whoe’er thou art, | |
| Sad spirit! thus reversed, and as a stake | |
| Driven in the soil,”—I in these words began; | |
| “If thou be able, utter forth thy voice.” | 50 |
| There stood I like the friar, that doth shrive | |
| A wretch for murder doom’d, who, e’en when fix’d, | |
| Calleth him back, whence death awhile delays. | |
| He shouted: “Ha! already standest there? | |
| Already standest there, O Boniface! 2 | 55 |
| By many a year the writing play’d me false. | |
| So early dost thou surfeit with the wealth, | |
| For which thou fearedst not in guile to take | |
| The lovely lady, and then mangle her?” | |
| I felt as those who, piercing not the drift | 60 |
| Of answer made them, stand as if exposed | |
| In mockery, nor know what to reply; | |
| When Virgil thus admonish’d: “Tell him quick, | |
| ‘I am not he, not he whom thou believest.’” | |
| And I, as was enjoin’d me, straight replied. | 65 |
| That heard, the spirit all did wrench his feet, | |
| And, sighing, next in woeful accent spake: | |
| “What then of me requirest? If to know | |
| So much imports thee, who I am, that thou | |
| Hast therefore down the bank descended, learn | 70 |
| That in the mighty mantle I was robed, 3 | |
| And of a she-bear was indeed the son, | |
| So eager to advance my whelps, that there | |
| My having in my purse above I stow’d, | |
| And here myself. Under my head are dragg’d | 75 |
| The rest, my predecessors in the guilt | |
| Of simony. Stretch’d at their length, they lie | |
| Along an opening in the rock. ’Midst them | |
| I also low shall fall, soon as he comes, | |
| For whom I took thee, when so hastily | 80 |
| I question’d. But already longer time | |
| Hath past, since my soles kindled, and I thus | |
| Upturn’d have stood, than is his doom to stand | |
| Planted with fiery feet. For after him, | |
| One yet of deeds more ugly shall arrive, | 85 |
| From forth the west, a shepherd without law, 4 | |
| Fated a cover both his form and mine. | |
| He a new Jason 5 shall be call’d, of whom | |
| In Maccabees we read; and favor such | |
| As to that priest his King indulgent show’d, | 90 |
| Shall be of France’s monarch 6 shown to him.” | |
| I know not if I here too far presumed, | |
| But in this strain I answer’d: “Tell me now | |
| What treasures from Saint Peter at the first | |
| Our Lord demanded, when he put the keys | 95 |
| Into his charge? Surely he ask’d no more | |
| But ‘Follow me!’ Nor Peter, 7 nor the rest, | |
| Or gold or silver of Matthias took, | |
| When lots were cast upon the forfeit place | |
| Of the condemned soul. 8 Abide thou then; | 100 |
| Thy punishment of right is merited: | |
| And look thou well to that ill-gotten coin, | |
| Which against Charles 9 thy hardihood inspired. | |
| If reverence of the keys restrain’d me not, | |
| Which thou in happier time didst hold, I yet | 105 |
| Severer speech might use. Your avarice | |
| O’ercasts the world with mourning, under foot | |
| Treading the good, and raising bad men up. | |
| Of shepherds like to you, the Evangelist | |
| Was ware, when her, who sits upon the waves, | 110 |
| With kings in filthy whoredom he beheld; | |
| She who with seven heads tower’d at her birth, | |
| And from ten horns her proof of glory drew, | |
| Long as her spouse in virtue took delight. | |
| Of gold and silver ye have made your god, | 115 |
| Differing wherein from the idolater, | |
| But that he worships one, a hundred ye? | |
| Ah, Constantine! 10 to how much ill gave birth, | |
| Not thy conversion, but that plenteous dower, | |
| Which the first wealthy Father gain’d from thee.” | 120 |
| Meanwhile, as thus I sung, he, whether wrath | |
| Or conscience smote him, violent upsprang | |
| Spinning on either sole. I do believe | |
| My teacher well was pleased, with so composed | |
| A lip he listen’d ever to the sound | 125 |
| Of the true words I utter’d. In both arms | |
| He caught, and, to his bosom lifting me, | |
| Upward retraced the way of his descent. | |
| Nor weary of his weight, he press’d me close, | |
| Till to the summit of the rock we came, | 130 |
| Our passage from the fourth to the fifth pier. | |
| His cherish’d burden there gently he placed | |
| Upon the rugged rock and steep, a path | |
| Not easy for the clambering goat to mount. | |
| Thence to my view another vale appear’d. | 135 |
