Canto XIV
CANTO XIV
Two spirits of the envious are discussing who this living man and his companion might be. At last, they ask Dante where he is from and who he is (1–15). The Pilgrim indicates that he is from the Valley of the Arno, without actually mentioning the name of the river, and forbears giving his own name out of modesty. Immediately, one spirit recognizes which river is meant, and when the other wonders why the Tuscan has suppressed its name, the first replies that it is right to let the name of the Arno Valley die (16–30). He then launches into a bitter and satirical lamentation for Tuscany, first declaring that from the Arno’s source to its mouth the Tuscans flee virtue as if it were a snake (31–42); then likening the inhabitants of the Casentino to swine, the Aretines to dogs, the Florentines to wolves, and the Pisans to foxes (43–54); and finally prophesying the slaughter of the Florentines by the second spirit’s nephew (55–66). At that, the second soul wheels around, perturbed; both the speech of the one and the reaction of the other provoke the Poet’s curiosity. The first reveals himself as Guido del Duca, a man so infected with envy that he turned livid on witnessing another person’s happiness (67–87). Next he introduces Rinieri da Calboli, whom he praises as the boast and honor of his region. Grieving that both in his family and in Romagna the weeds of vice have choked the flowers of virtue, he wonders where the worthy men of old have gone, naming both Ghibellines and Guelphs of the past (88–111). Lastly, he deplores the degeneracy of the present nobility and ruling families (112–123). Guido, overwhelmed by sadness, then sends Dante on his way. As the Poets continue, they hear a lightning crack of voices proclaiming the examples of punished envy, first of Cain, who murdered his brother, Abel, and then of Aglauros, who was turned to stone when in her envy she attempted to come between her sister, Herse, and the god Mercury (124–151).
1 “Now who is this who circles round our hill
Before he’s given wings by death below
And shuts his eyes and opens them at will?”
4 “I don’t know who he is, but yet I know
He’s not alone; you’re closer, ask instead,
But greet him kindly so he’ll speak.” And so
7 Two spirits, who were leaning head to head,[217]
Discussed me there upon my right-hand side;
As each upturned his face to speak, one said,
10 Addressing me: “O soul, who still abide
In body as you go towards Heaven’s door,
For charity console us and confide
13 Just who you are and where you come from for
You make us marvel so at grace’s deeds
Since such a thing has never been before.”
16 I said: “From Falterona there proceeds[218]
A stream that winds through central Tuscan ground;
No hundred miles could sate the course it needs,
19 And from its banks I bring this body round;
To tell you who I am would be in vain
Because my name as yet makes no great sound.”
22 “You mean the Arno, if I ascertain
Your meaning with my intellect,” replied
That shade who first had spoken of the twain.
25 And unto him the other said aside:
“Why does he mask that river’s name and shy
Like one with something horrible to hide?”
28 The shade thus questioned duly made reply:
“I don’t know why, but it is right at last
To let the name of such a valley die.[219]
31 For from its source (where mountains roughly cast,
From which Pelorus is cut off, teem so[220]
With streams that at few sites they are surpassed)
34 To where it yields (restoring from its flow[221]
All that the sky has taken from the sea,
So streams have that with which their courses go),
37 All run from virtue, thought their enemy,
As from a snake because the cursèd place
Or goads of evil custom make them flee.
40 Thus, dwellers through that wretched valley’s space
Have had their natures changed by such a force
It seems that Circe pastures all their race.[222]
43 Among brute swine, more fit to have recourse
To acorns than they are to human fare,
This river first directs its needy course.[223]
46 Still going down, it finds where dogs repair
Who snarl beyond their strength, and from the which
It turns its snout with such a scornful air.[224]
49 The more it swells, as downward falls its pitch,
The more such dogs, becoming wolves, are met
Around this cursèd and ill-fated ditch.[225]
52 Through many dark ravines descending yet,
It sees that foxes full of guile so feign
They don’t fear being caught by traps men set.[226]
55 And though another hears, I won’t refrain[227]
From speech—it will be good should he recall
How inspiration has untied this skein.
58 I see your grandson heed the hunters’ call[228]
And hunt the wolves on banks of savage streams,
Thus striking terror into one and all.
61 He sells their flesh while still alive, it seems,
Then slays them like old beasts that thus he should
Rob scores of life, himself of honor’s dreams.
64 He issues bloody from the dismal wood[229]
And leaves it such that in a thousand years
It still won’t be re-wooded as it stood.”
67 At that, just as the face of one appears
Perturbed when news of painful ills is heard,
No matter from what source fanged danger nears,
70 Just so I saw that spirit, who had whirred[230]
Around to hear, become disturbed and sad,
When it had finished taking in this word.
73 The speech the one and looks the other had
Now made me wonder what their names might be;
Thus, as petitions were my questions clad.
76 I’d asked the spirit who first spoke, so he
Began to speak again: “You wish me, though,
To do for you what you refused to me.
79 But since God wills His grace in you to glow
To such a great degree, I shall not stint:
That I was Guy of Duca therefore know.[231]
82 My blood so boiled when sparked by envy’s flint
That if I ever saw a happy man
You would have seen me dyed a livid tint.
85 From what I sowed I reaped such chaff to fan;
O race of humans, why do you employ
Your hearts where partnership must find a ban?
88 This is Rinieri, this the pride and joy[232]
Of Cálboli’s estate, where since his day
No heir has had his worth yet to enjoy.
91 Not only has his blood been stripped, I say,[233]
Between the seas and Reno, hills and Po,[234]
Of goods required for earnest and for play,
94 But in these bounds the noxious weeds that grow
So fill their lands that to destroy them there
By means of cultivation would be slow.
97 Where is good Lizïo? Mainardi, where[235]?
And Traversaro? Di Carpigna then?
O you, Romagna, turned a bastards’ lair!
100 Will Fabbros in Bologna root again,
Or Foscos in Faenza? Will we find
Such noble sprouts from lowly weeds, and when?
103 O Tuscan, marvel not that I remind
Myself and weep at d’Azzo’s memory,
Who with da Prata lived among our kind,
106 At that Tignoso and his company,
The Anastag’ and Traversaro’s own
(Without an heir is either family),
109 At dames and knights, at toils and ease once known,
Which love and courtesy would both incite—
So wicked has the heart of each there grown!
112 O Bretinoro, why not take to flight,[236]
Because your family has fled your snares,
Like many, to avoid a guilty plight?
115 Bagnacaval does well to breed no heirs,
But Castrocaro wrong, and Conio more,
In bothering to breed such counts as theirs.
118 And well, when rid of such a demon-sore,
Will those Pagani do, though now impure
Their witness must remain for evermore.
121 De’ Fantolin’, your name is made secure,
For we expect no one to come behind
By whose corruption it might grow obscure.
124 But, Tuscan, go your way; I am inclined
Far more to weep than still to speak today
For so has our discussion wrung my mind.”
127 We knew those dear souls heard us go away;
And therefore from their silence we could trust
That we were following the proper way.
130 As lightning cleaves the heavens with its thrust,
So, when—once by ourselves—we onwards drew,
A voice came towards us, saying in its gust:
133 “Whoever finds me out will kill me too”;[237]
It fled as does a fading thunder-crash
If suddenly its cloud has been cut through.
136 And when our ears had rested from that clash,
Another came with such a roar and cried,
Like thunder claps that follow in a flash:
139 “I am Aglauros, who was petrified”;[238]
And stepping towards the right hand at those sounds,
Not forward, I drew near the Poet’s side.
142 The air grew quiet all throughout those grounds,
And Virgil said: “That was the sturdy bit
That ought to hold a man within his bounds.
145 But still you take the bait and hook with it,[239]
Which reels you in to such an ancient foe;
Thus, neither curb nor lure avails a whit.
148 The heavens, circling, call to you and show
Their everlasting beauties unto you;
Yet still your eyes look but at earth below;
151 Hence, He who sees all things will smite you too.”