The Inferno of Dante, Canto III

"Thro' me you pass to Mourning's dark domain; Thro' me to scenes where Grief must ever pine; Thro' me, to Misery's devoted train. Justice and power in my Great Founder join, And love and wisdom all his fabrics rear; Wisdom above controul, and love divine! Before me, Nature saw no works appear; Save works eternal: such was I ordain'd. Quit every hope, all ye who enter here!" These characters, where misty darkness reign'd, High o'er a lofty gate I saw engrav'd. Ah Sire! (said I) hard things are here contain'd. He, sapient Guide! my farther question sav'd, With spirit answering, "Here all doubt resign, All weak distrust, and every thought deprav'd; At length we've reach'd that gloomy drear confine, Where, as I said, thou'lt see the mournful race For ever robb'd of Reason's light benign." Then, stretching forth his hand with gentle grace, From whence new comfort through my bosom flows, He led me in to that mysterious place. There sighs, and wailings, and severest woes; Deeply resounded through the starless air; And as I first advanc'd, my fears arose. Each different cry, the murmuring notes of care, Accents of misery, and words of ire, With all the sounds of discord and despair, To form such tumult in this scene conspire, As flies for ever round the gloomy waste, Like sand when quicken'd by the whirlwind's fire. I then (my mind with error still disgrac'd) Exclaim'd—O Sire! what may this trouble mean? What forms are these, by sorrow so debas'd?— He soon reply'd—Behold, these bounds between, All who without or infamy or fame Clos'd the blank business of their mortal scene! They join those angels, of ignoble name, Who not rebell'd, yet were not faithful found; Without attachment! self alone their aim! Heaven shuts them out from its unsullied bound; And Hell refuses to admit this train, Lest e'en the damn'd o'er these their triumph sound.— O Sire! (said I) whence then this grievous pain, That on our ears their lamentations grate?— This (he reply'd) I will in brief explain: These have no hope that death may mend their fate; And their blind days form so confus'd a mass, They pine with envy of each other's state: From earth their name has perish'd, like the grass; E'en Mercy views them with a scornful eye. We'll speak of them no more: Behold! and pass!— I look'd, and saw a banner rais'd on high, That whirl'd, unconscious of a moment's stand, With rapid circles in the troubled sky: Behind it, driven by Fate's supreme command, Came such a host! I ne'er could have believ'd Death had collected so complete a band. When now I had the forms of all perceiv'd, I saw the shade of that ignoble priest, Of sovereign power by indolence bereav'd. Instant I knew, from every doubt releas'd, These were the base, the miscreated crew To whom the hate of God had never ceas'd. Vile forms! ne'er honor'd with existence true! Naked they march'd, and sorely were they stung By wasps and hornets, that around them flew; These the black blood from their gall'd faces wrung; Blood mixt with tears, that, trickling to their feet, Fed the fastidious worms which round them clung. When now I farther pierc'd the dark retreat, Numbers I saw beside a mighty stream: Sudden I cry'd—Now, Sire, let me entreat To know what forms in distant prospect seem To pass so swiftly o'er a flood so wide, As I discern by this imperfect gleam?— That shalt thou know (return'd my gracious Guide) When the near respite from our toil we reach, On sullen Acheron's infernal tide.— With downcast eyes, that pardon now beseech, And hoping silence may that pardon win, E'en to the river I abstain'd from speech. And lo! towards us, with a shrivell'd skin, A hoary boatman steers his crazy bark, Exclaiming, "Woe to all ye sons of sin! Hope not for heaven, nor light's celestial spark! I come to wast you to a different lot; To Torture's realm, with endless horror dark: And thou, who living view'st this sacred spot, Haste to depart from these, for these are dead!" But when he saw that I departed not, In wrath he cry'd, "Thro' other passes led, Not here, shalt thou attempt the farther shore; But in a bark to bear thy firmer tread."— O Charon, said my Guide, thy strife give o'er; For thus 'tis will'd in that superior scene Where will is power. Seek thou to know no more!— Now grew the bearded visage more serene Of the stern boatman on the livid lake, Whose eyes so lately glar'd with anger keen: But all the naked shades began to quake; Their shuddering figures grew more pale than earth, Soon as they heard the cruel words he spake: God they blasphem'd, their parents' injur'd worth, And all mankind; the place, the hour, that saw Their first formation, and their future birth. Then were they driven, by Fate's resistless law, Weeping, to that sad scene prepar'd for all Who fear not God with pure devotion's awe. Charon, with eyes of fire and words of gall, Collects his crew, and high his oar he wields, To strike the tardy wretch who slights his call. As leaves in autumn thro' the woody fields Fly in succession, when each trembling tree Its ling'ring honors to the whirlwind yields; So this bad race, condemn'd by Heaven's decree, Successive hasten from that river's side: As birds, which at a call to bondage flee, So are they wafted o'er the gloomy tide; And ere from thence their journey is begun, A second crew awaits their hoary guide.— My gracious Master kindly said—My son! All those who in the wrath of God expire, From every clime haste hither, one by one; Nor would their terrors from this stream retire, Since heavenly justice so impels their mind, That fear is quicken'd into keen desire. Here may no spirit pass, to good inclin'd; And hence, if Charon seem'd to thwart thy will, Hence wilt thou deem his purpose not unkind.— He paus'd; and horrors of approaching ill Now made the mournful troop so stand aghast, Their fears yet strike me with a deadly chill! The groaning earth sent forth a hollow blast, And flash'd a fiery glare of gloomy red! The horrid scene my fainting power surpast: I fell, and, as in sleep, my senses fled.