Canto XXIV
CANTO XXIV
As a peasant mistaking hoarfrost for snow becomes angry but, on discovering his mistake, regains his composure and drives his sheep to pasture, so Dante, who was perplexed on seeing Virgil’s perturbation at the diabolical deceit, takes comfort when his Master recovers his wonted equanimity (1–18). Having surveyed the ruins of the collapsed bridge, Virgil assists the Pilgrim in struggling up from jag to jag. But the exhausted earthly climber has all the air “milked” from his lungs by the time he reaches the bridgehead and must rest to catch his breath (19–45). His mentor then exhorts him to lay aside all sloth and to strive manfully for honor and virtue. The Poet thus rises in the attempt to show himself better equipped with breath than he actually is, and the two of them make their way up the next ridge (46–64). When Dante hears a voice but discerns no form in the dark, he becomes eager to climb down the bridge’s side wall to the next abutment, and Virgil promptly accedes to his request (65–81). Here the Pilgrim discovers a brood of snakes more numerous than those of the Libyan desert or of Ethiopia and Arabia, with naked and terrified thieves running among them. The slithering reptiles manacle their hands behind their backs, then transfix their loins, and knot themselves in front (82–96). As one thief is pierced in the neck by a serpent, he bursts into flames, burns down into ashes, and rises phoenix-like from them anew to stare about himself bewildered, like an epileptic recovering from a fit (97–120). He turns out to be Vanni Fucci, a brigand and murderer whom the Poet would have expected to see in the ring of the violent, and is now visibly ashamed at having to admit that he committed a sacrilegious theft, allowing an innocent man to be falsely accused of his crime (121–139). In return for having been shamed, Vanni Fucci attempts to grieve Dante by prophesying through obscure images the defeat of the Florentine Whites (140–151).
1 In that part of the young year when the Sun
Beneath Aquarius warms up his mane[354]
And towards the south the nights begin to run,
4 And when the hoarfrost copies on the plain
The image of his sister veiled in white,
Although his pen’s sharp point will shortly wane,
7 The peasant who is short of fodder might
Rise up and look upon the field’s white cope,
And slap his thigh while gazing on the sight,
10 Turn back and, grumbling here and there, just mope,
Like some poor wretch who knows not what to do.
He then goes out again and gains new hope,
13 And, seeing that the world has changed its hue
In such short time, takes staff in hand once more
To drive his sheep to pasture them anew.
16 So had my Master stunned me too before
When I beheld such trouble on his face,
And so the salve came quickly to the sore.
19 For when we reached the broken bridge’s place,
My Leader turned to me with looks as kind
As what I first saw at the mountain’s base.
22 And having formed a plan within his mind,
First looking well upon the shattered rock,
With open arms he took me from behind.
25 And just as one who labors, taking stock,
While always seeming to provide ahead,
So, lifting me on top of one great block,
28 While looking at another spur, he said:
“Now see you clamber over to that crag,
But first find out if it will bear your tread.”
31 And here there was no way for those who drag
Lead coats, for we—he light and I borne on—
Could scarcely make it up from jag to jag.
34 And were it not that there the slope upon
The dike was shorter than the one before,[355]
Then, if not he, I’d surely have been gone.
37 But yet because all Malebolge bore
Down towards the crater of its deepest well,
The site of every valley made the shore[356]
40 On one side drop and on the other swell.
And so at last we reached the point whereat
The final boulder once broke off and fell.
43 And from my lungs all breath was milked so that,
Once I was up, no farther could I aim;
As soon as I had reached that rock, I sat.
46 “You now must cast aside all sloth,” so came
My Master’s voice, “for he who rests on down
Or under covers cannot come to fame.
49 And he who wastes his life without renown
Shall leave on earth a vestige just as great
As smoke-filled air or water’s foamy crown.
52 Up then! Defeat your panting with that state
Of mind which conquers all when battles brew
If it’s not crushed beneath the body’s weight.
55 It’s not enough that we have left that crew;[357]
We have to climb a longer stair up high.[358]
If you have heard me, let it profit you.”
58 I rose and showed much better a supply
Of breath than what I felt within me lay
And said: “Go on, for strong and bold am I.”
61 Upon the ridge we took the upward way,
And narrow, rugged, difficult was it,
Far steeper than we yet had crossed that day.
64 Not to seem weak, I went and talked a bit;
From one ditch on a voice appeared to leak,[359]
Although for forming words it was not fit.
67 I don’t know what it said, though on the peak
I stood now of the arch that crosses there,
And yet he seemed to move whom I heard speak.
70 I had bent downwards, but my keen-eyed stare
Could not reach bottom through the darksome pall,
And thus I said: “O Master, can’t you bear
73 Towards that next belt? Let us descend the wall;[360]
For as I hear but do not understand,
So I look down but see no shape at all.”
76 “I give you no reply to your demand
But doing it,” he said; “a just request
Is met in silence by the work at hand.”
79 So, down the bridge, just at the end, we pressed
Where to the eighth embankment it is tied,
And there I saw the trench made manifest.
82 Within, a fearful brood of snakes was spied,
Which had so strange a look its mem’ry stands
Until this day to chill my blood inside.
85 Let Libya no longer vaunt its sands;[361]
Though jaculi, parea, cenchres too,
Chelydri, amphisbaena rise in bands,
88 So many evil plagues she never knew,
With all of Ethiopia’s vast zone,
And all the lands within the Red Sea’s view.[362]
91 Amid the ruthless, dismal swarm here shown
Ran people who were nude and terrified;[363]
They had no hope of hole or witching stone.[364]
94 Behind them they had hands that snakes had tied;
Right through their loins snake heads and tails had shot,
And they were knotted on the other side.
97 And look! At someone standing near our spot
A serpent darted; it transfixed its foe,
Just where the neck and shoulders form a knot.
100 One never wrote so quickly “i” or “o”
As he had caught on fire, then burned all round,
And fully turned to ash on sinking low.
103 And when he lay destroyed upon the ground,
His dust, collecting, started to cohere,
And in its former shape at once was found.
106 Thus, as great sages have confessed, we hear
That when the phoenix dies it’s born anew,[365]
As it approaches its five-hundredth year.
109 It eats no herb or grain its whole life through,
But drops of incense now, amomum now;
Its final swathings nard and myrrh imbue.
112 And just as he who falls, not knowing how,
Thrown down by force of demons or the ties
Of some obstruction in him, will allow
115 His gaze to circle as he comes to rise,
Still all bewildered by the anguished throes
That he has suffered and, while looking, sighs,
118 So did this sinner stare when he arose.
O how severe the might of God can be,
Which, as its vengeance, showers down such blows!
121 My Guide then asked him who he was, and he
Responded: “Just a while ago was when
I rained to this fierce maw from Tuscany.
124 The life of brutes I loved, not that of men
—Mule that I was—I’m Vanni Fucci, beast,[366]
And once Pistoia was my fitting den.”
127 “Don’t let him slip away, but ask at least,”
I told my Guide, “what sin has thrust him here;
I saw his rage and bloodshed never ceased.”
130 That sinner did not feign, for he could hear,
But turned to me his visage and his mind,
As dismal shame bedaubed him with its smear.
133 He said: “That you should catch me here consigned
To this, the misery you see, hurts more
Than when I left the other life behind.
136 And yet, I can’t deny what you implore;
I’m stationed down so far because I stole
The sacristy’s fair ornaments before,
139 For which they falsely blamed another soul.[367]
But lest you might enjoy such sights as these,
If ever you escape from this dark hole,
142 With ears wide open, hear my prophecies:
Pistoia first is thinned of every Black,
Then Florence gets new ways and families.[368]
145 From Val di Magra Mars brings vapor back,
Which in the turbid clouds is wrapped up tight;
With raging storm and bitter tempest-wrack
148 On Camp’ Piceno there will be a fight,
And burning vapor suddenly will cleave
The mist, so that it hammers every White.[369]
151 And I have said all this to make you grieve!”