The Divine Comedy by Dante: The Vision of Hell, Or The Inferno: Canto XXIX

So were mine eyes inebriate with view     Of the vast multitude, whom various wounds     Disfigur'd, that they long'd to stay and weep.     But Virgil rous'd me: "What yet gazest on?     Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight below     Among the maim'd and miserable shades?     Thou hast not shewn in any chasm beside     This weakness. Know, if thou wouldst number them     That two and twenty miles the valley winds     Its circuit, and already is the moon     Beneath our feet: the time permitted now     Is short, and more not seen remains to see."     "If thou," I straight replied, "hadst weigh'd the cause     For which I look'd, thou hadst perchance excus'd     The tarrying still." My leader part pursu'd     His way, the while I follow'd, answering him,     And adding thus: "Within that cave I deem,     Whereon so fixedly I held my ken,     There is a spirit dwells, one of my blood,     Wailing the crime that costs him now so dear."     Then spake my master: "Let thy soul no more     Afflict itself for him. Direct elsewhere     Its thought, and leave him. At the bridge's foot     I mark'd how he did point with menacing look     At thee, and heard him by the others nam'd     Geri of Bello. Thou so wholly then     Wert busied with his spirit, who once rul'd     The towers of Hautefort, that thou lookedst not     That way, ere he was gone."--"O guide belov'd!     His violent death yet unaveng'd," said I,     "By any, who are partners in his shame,     Made him contemptuous: therefore, as I think,     He pass'd me speechless by; and doing so     Hath made me more compassionate his fate."     So we discours'd to where the rock first show'd     The other valley, had more light been there,     E'en to the lowest depth. Soon as we came     O'er the last cloister in the dismal rounds     Of Malebolge, and the brotherhood     Were to our view expos'd, then many a dart     Of sore lament assail'd me, headed all     With points of thrilling pity, that I clos'd     Both ears against the volley with mine hands.     As were the torment, if each lazar-house     Of Valdichiana, in the sultry time     'Twixt July and September, with the isle     Sardinia and Maremma's pestilent fen,     Had heap'd their maladies all in one foss     Together; such was here the torment: dire     The stench, as issuing steams from fester'd limbs.     We on the utmost shore of the long rock     Descended still to leftward. Then my sight     Was livelier to explore the depth, wherein     The minister of the most mighty Lord,     All-searching Justice, dooms to punishment     The forgers noted on her dread record.     More rueful was it not methinks to see     The nation in Aegina droop, what time     Each living thing, e'en to the little worm,     All fell, so full of malice was the air     (And afterward, as bards of yore have told,     The ancient people were restor'd anew     From seed of emmets) than was here to see     The spirits, that languish'd through the murky vale     Up-pil'd on many a stack. Confus'd they lay,     One o'er the belly, o'er the shoulders one     Roll'd of another; sideling crawl'd a third     Along the dismal pathway. Step by step     We journey'd on, in silence looking round     And list'ning those diseas'd, who strove in vain     To lift their forms. Then two I mark'd, that sat     Propp'd 'gainst each other, as two brazen pans     Set to retain the heat. From head to foot,     A tetter bark'd them round. Nor saw I e'er     Groom currying so fast, for whom his lord     Impatient waited, or himself perchance     Tir'd with long watching, as of these each one     Plied quickly his keen nails, through furiousness     Of ne'er abated pruriency. The crust     Came drawn from underneath in flakes, like scales     Scrap'd from the bream or fish of broader mail.     "O thou, who with thy fingers rendest off     Thy coat of proof," thus spake my guide to one,     "And sometimes makest tearing pincers of them,     Tell me if any born of Latian land     Be among these within: so may thy nails     Serve thee for everlasting to this toil."     "Both are of Latium," weeping he replied,     "Whom tortur'd thus thou seest: but who art thou     That hast inquir'd of us?" To whom my guide:     "One that descend with this man, who yet lives,     From rock to rock, and show him hell's abyss."     Then started they asunder, and each turn'd     Trembling toward us, with the rest, whose ear     Those words redounding struck. To me my liege     Address'd him: "Speak to them whate'er thou list."     And I therewith began: "So may no time     Filch your remembrance from the thoughts of men     In th' upper world, but after many suns     Survive it, as ye tell me, who ye are,     And of what race ye come. Your punishment,     Unseemly and disgustful in its kind,     Deter you not from opening thus much to me."     "Arezzo was my dwelling," answer'd one,     "And me Albero of Sienna brought     To die by fire; but that, for which I died,     Leads me not here. True is in sport I told him,     That I had learn'd to wing my flight in air.     And he admiring much, as he was void     Of wisdom, will'd me to declare to him     The secret of mine art: and only hence,     Because I made him not a Daedalus,     Prevail'd on one suppos'd his sire to burn me.     But Minos to this chasm last of the ten,     For that I practis'd alchemy on earth,     Has doom'd me. Him no subterfuge eludes."     Then to the bard I spake: "Was ever race     Light as Sienna's? Sure not France herself     Can show a tribe so frivolous and vain."     The other leprous spirit heard my words,     And thus return'd: "Be Stricca from this charge     Exempted, he who knew so temp'rately     To lay out fortune's gifts; and Niccolo     Who first the spice's costly luxury     Discover'd in that garden, where such seed     Roots deepest in the soil: and be that troop     Exempted, with whom Caccia of Asciano     Lavish'd his vineyards and wide-spreading woods,     And his rare wisdom Abbagliato show'd     A spectacle for all. That thou mayst know     Who seconds thee against the Siennese     Thus gladly, bend this way thy sharpen'd sight,     That well my face may answer to thy ken;     So shalt thou see I am Capocchio's ghost,     Who forg'd transmuted metals by the power     Of alchemy; and if I scan thee right,     Thus needs must well remember how I aped     Creative nature by my subtle art."