Canto XXV
CANTO XXV
When Vanni Fucci finishes his dark prophecy, he raises his fists defiantly, blaspheming God. The devout Pilgrim counts it as an act of friendship when two avenging serpents then bind his neck and wrists, so that the impious thief cannot continue but, choked of speech, must flee (1–16). Then Cacus, a centaur with a tangle of snakes upon his haunches and a fire-belching dragon upon his shoulders, comes raging after the fleeing sinner. (Because of his deceit in stealing the cattle of Geryon from Hercules, he does not guard the first ring of the seventh circle with the other centaurs) (17–34). At once three more spirits come rushing by. Cianfa, a shade metamorphosed into a six-footed reptile, springs up and grapples Agnello, the first spirit. The lizardlike beast runs its forefeet around Agnello’s arms, its middle feet around his belly, its hindfeet along his thighs, and its tail between his legs and on his loins, sinking its fangs into his cheeks. Melting into one another, their colors mix like running dyes, and their forms fuse indistinguishably so as to seem both two and none (35–78). A black and livid snake, the shade of Guercio, then comes darting up and pierces the navel of Buoso, the second spirit. When it has fallen to the ground, puffs of hypnotic smoke blow out of both the serpent’s mouth and the human’s wound (79–93). And now Lucan and Ovid will fall silent at what follows (94–102). The serpent’s tail forks into legs; its skin softens; its hindfeet contract into the male member; its snout withdraws into a nose, sprouts into ears, and thickens into lips; and its cleft tongue rejoins, as it rises erect. At the same time, the feet and legs of the human shade coalesce; his skin hardens; his arms draw in to forefeet; his member splits into hindfeet; his nose extends; his ears retract; and his tongue cleaves apart (103–141). The third spirit, Puccio, remains unchanged throughout (142–151).
1 On finishing these words, the robber threw
His hands up high, with both the figs, to roar:[370]
“Take that, O God, for these I aim at you!”
4 Henceforth the serpents showed me friendship, for
One wrapped around his neck then in a twist
As if to say: “I’ll have you speak no more.”
7 One coiled around his arms and bound each wrist
And clinched itself in front to the degree
That thus he could not even budge a fist.
10 Ah me! Pistoia, why don’t you decree
To burn yourself and be no more at all,
Since you surpass your seed in villainy?[371]
13 Throughout the darksome circles in Hell’s thrall,
I saw no soul towards God so full of pride,
Not even he who fell from Thebes’ high wall.[372]
16 Without another word he fled to hide.
And next I saw a raging centaur storm
Towards us; “Where, where’s that bitter one?” he cried.
19 I think Maremma is no serpent swarm[373]
As was his croup, on which those snakes all prey,
Right up to where begins the human form.
22 Behind his nape upon his shoulders lay
A dragon, which had both its wings outspread;
It sets on fire all those who cross his way.
25 “That one is Cacus,” so my Master said,[374]
“Who underneath Mount Aventino’s rock
Has often made a lake with blood he shed.
28 He does not tread the road his brothers walk[375]
Because of the deceitful theft he made
When once he stole a nearby herd of stock.
31 And for this cause his crooked deeds were stayed
Beneath great Hercules’ one hundredth blow,
Perhaps—he didn’t feel the tenth one laid.”
34 He galloped by, with Virgil speaking so;
And three more spirits next beneath us flew,[376]
Yet neither he nor I perceived them, though,
37 Until they shouted out: “And who are you?”
At that our talking finished, and we came
To pay attention only to that crew.
40 Although I did not know them, just the same
It happened, as by chance it often goes,
That one of them called out the other’s name;
43 “Now where has Cianfa stopped?” he said to those.[377]
At which, so that my Guide might be intent,
I raised my finger up from chin to nose.
46 If you are slow, O Reader, to assent
To what I’ll say, that will not be so rare,
For I who saw it scarcely give consent.
49 And as I fixed my eyes upon them there,
I saw that a six-footed serpent sprang[378]
In front of one and clutched him everywhere.
52 Around his paunch its middle feet first swang,
Around his arms its forefeet next entwined,
And then in both his cheeks it sank a fang.
55 Along his thighs its hindfeet were aligned,
So that it ran its tail between the two
And bent it upwards on his loins behind.
58 So firmly rooted ivy never grew
Around a tree as when that beast so feared
Had wreathed its members round the other’s too.
61 As if with melted wax they had been smeared,
Each stuck to each; their colors mixed like dyes,
So neither of them as before appeared.
64 Just so, the brownish color that will rise
Across the paper, as the flame burns through,
Is not yet blackened though the white tint dies.
67 The others shouted as they watched the view:
“Ah me! Agnello, how you change! Just see,[379]
Already you are neither one nor two.”
70 By now, two heads as one had come to be;
Two faces had appeared in one same mien,
And, all mixed up, those two were lost to me.
73 Where four lengths were, two arms would supervene;
The thighs and legs, the belly and the chest
Became such limbs as never had been seen.
76 Each former feature there had been suppressed:
That ill-made image seemed both two and none;
It moved on at a languid pace at best.
79 Just as beneath the dog days’ scourging sun
The lizards dart from hedge to hedge and feign
A lightning flash when crossing on the run,
82 So, making for the bellies of the twain[380]
Still left, a blazing little serpent ran—[381]
One black and livid as a pepper grain.
85 It pierced that part of one where every man
First takes his nourishment, and thereupon
It fell before him, stretching out full span.
88 The one transfixed said nothing but looked on;
In fact, feet firm, he had a yawning fit,
Like one whom sleep or fever’s come upon.
91 The serpent looked at him, and he at it;
One through its mouth, the other through his sore
Blew out great puffs of smoke, which met and knit.
94 Let Lucan hence be still, who sang of yore
Nasidius and sad Sabellus; wait[382]
To hear what now comes forth. And furthermore,
97 Of Cadmus and of Arethusa’s fate[383]
Let Ovid too be still; if his verse changed
One to a font, one to a serpent’s state,
100 I envy not: he never interchanged
Two natures so both forms, when eye to eye,
Were prompt to have their matters be exchanged.
103 Each offered to the other this reply:
As to a fork the serpent’s tail was tined,
The wounded one again drew both feet nigh.
106 His thighs and legs so closely were combined
That in a little while the juncture made
Soon left no sign of them to be divined.
109 And after that its cloven tail displayed
That form the other lost, and next its skin
Was growing soft as his turned hard in trade.
112 I saw that, at their pits, his arms drew in,
And two short serpent feet began to sprout
As much as those grew shorter of his twin.
115 And now its hindfeet, twisted all about,
Became the member that a man conceals
As from that wretch’s own two feet shot out.
118 And meanwhile, as the veil of smoke enseals
Them both in novel hues and breeds new hair
Upon one part whereas the other peels,
121 The one arose, the other fell down there,
But neither skewed his godless lamps, which scanned
The other changing snouts beneath their glare.
124 The one who stood drew snout to temples, and,
From the excessive matter thus obtained,
On hairless cheeks two ears now came to stand.
127 From what did not run back but was retained
Of that excess, its face could grow a nose;
Its lips were thickened and due size attained.
130 While one is lying prone, his muzzle grows;
His head retracts the ears with but a stroke—
As snails with feelers do, it does with those.
133 His tongue, still joined and apt for one who spoke,
Is cleft apart; the forked one from its root
Rejoins again, at which there stops the smoke.
136 The spirit who had just become a brute,
Now hissing, through the valley ran away;
The other spoke and sputtered in pursuit.
139 It turned its new-made shoulders then to say
This to the third: “Let Buoso slither then,[384]
As I have, on all fours along the way.”
142 I saw the seventh ballast change again,[385]
And yet again; here let the novelty
Excuse me for the straying of my pen.
145 Although my eyes were blurred to some degree,
My mind bewildered, they could not have fled
So secretly that still I could not see
148 Puccio Sciancato clearly up ahead,[386]
Who, of three comrades who had first come by,
Was he alone who did not change a shred.
151 The other one made you, Gaville, cry.[387]