CANTO XXIII.

Silent, alone, not now with company We onward went, one first and one behind, As Minor Friars[610] use to make their way. On Æsop’s fable[611] wholly was my mind Intent, by reason of that contest new— The fable where the frog and mouse we find; For Mo and Issa[612] are not more of hue Than like the fable shall the fact appear, If but considered with attention due. And as from one thought springs the next, so here10 Out of my first arose another thought, Until within me doubled was my fear. For thus I judged: Seeing through us[613] were brought Contempt upon them, hurt, and sore despite, They needs must be to deep vexation wrought. If anger to malevolence unite, Then will they us more cruelly pursue Than dog the hare which almost feels its bite. All my hair bristled, I already knew, With terror when I spake: ‘O Master, try20 To hide us quick’ (and back I turned to view What lay behind), ‘for me they terrify, These Malebranche following us; from dread I almost fancy I can feel them nigh.’ And he: ‘Were I a mirror backed with lead I should no truer glass that form of thine, Than all thy thought by mine is answered. For even now thy thoughts accord with mine, Alike in drift and featured with one face; And to suggest one counsel they combine.30 If the right bank slope downward at this place, To the next Bolgia[614] offering us a way, Swiftly shall we evade the imagined chase.’ Ere he completely could his purpose say, I saw them with their wings extended wide, Close on us; as of us to make their prey. Then quickly was I snatched up by my Guide: Even as a mother when, awaked by cries, She sees the flames are kindling at her side, Delaying not, seizes her child and flies;40 Careful for him her proper danger mocks, Nor even with one poor shift herself supplies. And he, stretched out upon the flinty rocks, Himself unto the precipice resigned Which one side of the other Bolgia blocks. A swifter course ne’er held a stream confined, That it may turn a mill, within its race, Where near the buckets ’tis the most declined Than was my Master’s down that rock’s sheer face; Nor seemed I then his comrade, as we sped,50 But like a son locked in a sire’s embrace. And barely had his feet struck on the bed Of the low ground, when they were seen to stand Upon the crest, no more a cause of dread.[615] For Providence supreme, who so had planned In the Fifth Bolgia they should minister, Them wholly from departure thence had banned. ’Neath us we saw a painted people fare, Weeping as on their way they circled slow, Crushed by fatigue to look at, and despair.60 Cloaks had they on with hoods pulled down full low Upon their eyes, and fashioned, as it seemed, Like those which at Cologne[616] for monks they sew. The outer face was gilt so that it gleamed; Inside was all of lead, of such a weight Frederick’s[617] to these had been but straw esteemed. O weary robes for an eternal state! With them we turned to the left hand once more, Intent upon their tears disconsolate. But those folk, wearied with the loads they bore,70 So slowly crept that still new company Was ours at every footfall on the floor. Whence to my Guide I said: ‘Do thou now try To find some one by name or action known, And as we go on all sides turn thine eye.’ And one, who recognised the Tuscan tone, Called from behind us: ‘Halt, I you entreat Who through the air obscure are hastening on; Haply in me thou what thou seek’st shalt meet.’ Whereon my Guide turned round and said: ‘Await, And keep thou time with pacing of his feet.’81 I stood, and saw two manifesting great Desire to join me, by their countenance; But their loads hampered them and passage strait.[618] And, when arrived, me with an eye askance[619] They gazed on long time, but no word they spoke; Then, to each other turned, held thus parlance: ‘His heaving throat[620] proves him of living folk. If they are of the dead, how could they gain To walk uncovered by the heavy cloak?’90 Then to me: ‘Tuscan, who dost now attain To the college of the hypocrites forlorn, To tell us who thou art show no disdain.’ And I to them: ‘I was both bred and born In the great city by fair Arno’s stream, And wear the body I have always worn. But who are ye, whose suffering supreme Makes tears, as I behold, to flood the cheek; And what your mode of pain that thus doth gleam?’ ‘Ah me, the yellow mantles,’ one to speak100 Began, ‘are all of lead so thick, its weight Maketh the scales after this manner creak. We, Merry Friars[621] of Bologna’s state, I Catalano, Loderingo he, Were by thy town together designate, As for the most part one is used to be, To keep the peace within it; and around Gardingo,[622] what we were men still may see.’ I made beginning: ‘Friars, your profound—’ But said no more, on suddenly seeing there110 One crucified by three stakes to the ground, Who, when he saw me, writhed as in despair, Breathing into his beard with heavy sigh. And Friar Catalan, of this aware, Said: ‘He thus fixed, on whom thou turn’st thine eye, Counselled the Pharisees that it behoved One man as victim[623] for the folk should die. Naked, thou seest, he lies, and ne’er removed From where, set ’cross the path, by him the weight Of every one that passes by is proved.120 And his wife’s father shares an equal fate, With others of the Council, in this fosse; For to the Jews they proved seed reprobate.’ Meanwhile at him thus stretched upon the cross Virgil,[624] I saw, displayed astonishment— At his mean exile and eternal loss. And then this question to the Friars he sent: ‘Be not displeased, but, if ye may, avow If on the right[625] hand there lies any vent By which we, both of us,[626] from hence may go,130 Nor need the black angelic company To come to help us from this valley low.’ ‘Nearer than what thou think’st,’ he made reply, ‘A rib there runs from the encircling wall,[627] The cruel vales in turn o’erarching high; Save that at this ’tis rent and ruined all. Ye can climb upward o’er the shattered heap Where down the side the piled-up fragments fall.’ His head bent down a while my Guide did keep, Then said: ‘He warned us[628] in imperfect wise,140 Who sinners with his hook doth clutch and steep.’ The Friar: ‘At Bologna[629] many a vice I heard the Devil charged with, and among The rest that, false, he father is of lies.’ Then onward moved my Guide with paces long, And some slight shade of anger on his face. I with him parted from the burdened throng, Stepping where those dear feet had left their trace.