121–126
Virgil begets response from Vanni
127–129
Dante’s further request of Vanni through Virgil
130–139
Vanni’s confession
140–151
Vanni’s prophecy of Dante’s political misery
INFERNO XXIV
In that season of the youthful year →
when the sun cools his locks beneath Aquarius
3
and the dark already nears but half the day,
and when the hoarfrost copies out upon the fields
the very image of her snowy sister—
6
although her pen-point is not sharp for long—
the peasant, short of fodder, rises,
looks out, and sees the countryside
9
turned white, at which he slaps his thigh,
goes back indoors, grumbling here and there
like a wretch who knows not what to do,
12
then goes outside again and is restored to hope,
seeing that the world has changed its face
in that brief time, and now picks up his crook
15
and drives his sheep to pasture.
Thus the master caused me to lose heart
when I saw how troubled was his brow
18
and just as quickly came the poultice to the wound,
for no sooner had we reached the broken bridge
than he turned to me with that gentle glance
21
I first saw at the mountain’s foot.
He looked with care upon the ruin, →
took thought, chose a plan of action,
24
then opened out his arms and took me in them.
And like one who reckons as he works,
always planning for what comes next,
27
thus, while raising me to one boulder’s peak,
he searched for yet another crag
and said: ‘Take hold of that one next
30
but test it first to see if it will bear your weight.’
This was no climb for people wearing leaden cloaks. →
Though he was weightless and I was being pushed, →
33
how hard a climb it was from one crag to the other!
Were it not that on this side of the dike
the slope was shorter—I cannot speak for him—
36
I would have given up.
But since all Malebolge inclines →
down to the mouth of the lowest pit,
39
it follows that each valley is constructed
with one side higher than the other.
At last we made it to the point
42
where the outermost stone had broken off.
And there I felt my lungs so sucked of breath
that I could go no farther,
45
but I sat down as quickly as I could.
‘Now must you cast off sloth,’ my master said.
‘Sitting on feather cushions or stretched out
48
under comforters, no one comes to fame.
‘Without fame, he who spends his time on earth →
leaves only such a mark upon the world
51
as smoke does on the air or foam on water.
‘Get to your feet! Conquer this laboring breath
with strength of mind, which wins the battle
54
if not dragged down by body’s weight.
‘There is a longer stair that must be climbed.
It’s not enough to leave these souls behind.
57
If you take my meaning, let it be of use.’
At that I rose, pretending to more breath →
than I had in me, and said:
60
‘Go on then, for I am strong and resolute.’
We labored up a ridge,
rugged, narrow, difficult,
63
and steeper far than was the last.
Not to seem so spent, I talked as I climbed up.
Then, from the next ditch, came a voice →
66
that seemed unfit for forming words.
I could not make out what it said, →
though I was at the crown that arches over,
69
but the one who spoke seemed to be in motion.
Hard as I strained to see, it was too dark
for living eyes to plumb the depths.
72
And so I said: ‘Master, take your way
‘to the next ledge where we can leave this bridge.
From here I make out nothing with my ears
75
nor with my eyes see anything down there.’
‘I give no other answer than to take you,’
he said, ‘for a just request
78
should be followed by the act, in silence.’
We left the bridge at the abutment →
where it comes to rest on that eighth bank.
81
From there the contents of the ditch came into view.
In it I saw a dreadful swarm of serpents, →
of so strange a kind that even now
84
when I remember them it chills my blood.
Let Libya with all her sands no longer boast, →
for though she fosters chelydri, jaculi,
87
phareae, cenchres, and amphisbaena,
she never reared so many venomous pests, →
nor so appalling—not with all of Ethiopia
90
and the lands that lie along the Red Sea coast.
Amid this fearsome and most awful plenty, →
people, naked and in terror, were running
93
without hope of refuge or of heliotrope.
Their hands were tied behind their backs with snakes
that thrust their heads and tails between the legs
96
and joined, knotting themselves in front.
And behold, one of these souls was near our ridge →
when a serpent launched and pierced him through →
99
right where the neck and shoulders join.
Never has ‘o’ nor even ‘i’ been writ so quick →
as he caught fire and burned, turned,
102
in the very act of falling, into ashes.
And as he lay unmade upon the ground,
the dust regathered of its own accord
105
and suddenly he was himself again.
Just, as is attested by great sages,
the phoenix perishes and is reborn →
108
when it approaches its five-hundredth year—
lifelong it feeds on neither grain nor grasses,
but thrives on drops of frankincense and cardamom,
111
while nard and myrrh make up its winding sheet—
and just as one who faints, and knows not why—
whether possessed by devils that pull him down
114
or seized by the sickness that causes men to fall—
rises to his feet, and gazes round,
wholly bewildered by the breathless anguish
117
he has undergone, and as he looks, he sighs,
such did that sinner seem when he had risen.
O how stern it is, the power of God, →
120
hurling such blows as it takes vengeance!
When my leader asked him who he was:
‘From Tuscany I rained down,’ was his answer, →
123
‘not long ago, into this savage gorge.
‘I loved the life of beasts and not of men,
just like the mule I was. I
am Vanni Fucci,
126
animal. Pistoia was my fitting den.’
And I to my leader: ‘Tell him not to slip away, →
then ask what sin has thrust him to this depth,
129
for I knew him as a man of blood and rages.’
And the sinner, listening, did not dissemble,
but set his mind and eyes on me,
132
then colored with a wrathful shame →
and said: ‘For you to catch me
in this misery pains me more
135
than when I was taken from the other life.
‘I can’t refuse to answer what you ask.
I am thrust so far below because I stole
138
the lovely ornaments from the sacristy
‘and the blame was wrongly laid upon another.
But, so you take no joy in seeing me this low, →
141
if ever you escape from these dark regions,
‘open your ears to prophecy and hear:
144
then Florence changes families and fashions.
‘Next Mars draws up a bolt from Val di Magra,
engulfed by torn and threatening clouds,
147
and, with violent and stinging storms,
’on Campo Piceno the battle shall be joined.
The headlong bolt shall rend the clouds,
striking and wounding every White.
151
And this I have told that it may make you grieve.’ →
OUTLINE: INFERNO XXV
1–9
Vanni’s blasphemy and the serpents’ attack
10–15
the poet’s apostrophe: Pistoia
16–18
Vanni Fucci’s flight and the centaur’s pursuit
19–24
the poet’s fanciful demon, Cacus
25–33
Virgil’s “certification” of Cacus
34–45
the sudden appearance of three thieves
46–48
sixth address to the reader
49–78
Agnello shares a new shape with Cianfa
79–84
simile: lizard darting across path
85–93
“mating” of a serpent (Francesco) and a “man” (Buoso)
94–102
the poet’s claim to have surpassed Lucan and Ovid
103–141
Buoso changes shape with serpent Francesco
142–144
the poet’s apology
145–151
Puccio alone is not transmogrified
INFERNO XXV
Then, making the figs with both his thumbs, →
the thief raised up his fists and cried:
3
‘Take that, God! It’s aimed at you!’
From that time on the serpents were my friends, →
for one of them coiled itself around his neck →
6
as if to say, ‘Now you shall speak no more,’
while another enmeshed his arms and held him fast,
knotting itself so tight around his front
9
he could not even twitch his arms.
Ah, Pistoia, Pistoia, why won’t you resolve →
to burn yourself to ashes, cease to be,
12
since you exceed your ancestors in evil?
Through all the gloomy rounds of Hell →
I saw no soul so prideful against God,
15
not even him who toppled from the walls at Thebes.
He ran away without another word.
And then I saw a centaur full of rage →
18
come shouting: ‘Where, where is that unripe soul?’
Maremma does not have as many snakes, →
I think, as he had on his back,
21
from where the human part begins down to the rump.
On his shoulders, at the nape of his neck,
crouched a dragon with its wings spread wide
24
that sets on fire whatever it encounters.
My master said: ‘That is Cacus,
who in the cave beneath the Aventine
27
many times over has made a lake of blood.
‘His road is different from his brothers’
because he stole, with wicked cunning,
30
the herd of cattle he found near at hand.
‘For that his wily ways were ended
beneath the club of Hercules, who struck perhaps
33
a hundred blows, though he felt not the tenth.’
While my master spoke the centaur had run past. →
Below where we were standing, three new souls
36
had neared, although we did not see them
until we heard their shouts: ‘You,
who are you?’ At that he stopped his tale
39
and we gave heed to them alone.
I knew none of them, and yet it happened—
as often happens by some chance—
42
that one had cause to speak another’s name,
asking: ‘What’s become of Cianfa?’ →
45
I held my finger up from chin to nose.
If, reader, you are slow to credit
what I’m about to tell you, it’s no wonder:
48
I saw it, and I myself can scarce believe it.
While I stood staring, with eyebrows raised, →
a reptile with six legs propelled itself
51
at one of them, and fastened itself to him.
It grabbed his belly with its middle claws,
then with its forepaws held his arms
54
and bit through both his cheeks.
It stretched its hind feet down the other’s thighs,
thrusting its tail between them
57
and curled it up behind, above the buttocks.
Never did clinging ivy fix itself
so tight upon a tree as did that fearsome beast
60
entwine itself around the other’s limbs.
Then they fused together, as if made
of molten wax, mixing their colors
63
so that neither seemed what it had been before,
as over the surface of a scrap of parchment, →
before the advancing flame, a brownish color comes
66
that is not black, yet makes the white die out.
The other two were looking on and each
was shouting: ‘Oh my, Agnello, how you change! →
69
Look, now you are neither two nor one!’ →
The two heads had already been united,
two sets of features blending,
72
both lost in a single face.
Four separate limbs combined to form two arms.
The thighs and calves, the stomach and the chest
75
turned into members never seen before.
All trace of their first aspect was erased
and the unnatural figure seemed both two
78
and none and lumbered off at its slow pace.
As the green lizard beneath the scorching lash →
of dog-day heat, between one hedge and the next,
81
seems lightning as it streaks across the road,
just so appeared—darting toward the bellies →
of the other two—a little fiery reptile,
84
black and livid as a peppercorn.
That part where first we are nourished
it transfixed in one of them
87
and then fell prone before him.
The one transfixed just stared, said nothing.
Indeed, with his feet stock-still, he yawned,
90
as if deep sleep or fever had assailed him.
He and the reptile stared at one another.
Both gave out dense smoke, one from its wound,
93
the other from its mouth. Then their smoke merged.
Let Lucan now fall silent where he tells →
of poor Sabellus and Nasidius,
96
and let him wait to hear what comes forth now!
Let Ovid not speak of Cadmus or Arethusa,
for if his poem turns him into a serpent
99
and her into a fountain, I grudge it not,
for never did he change two natures, face to face,
in such a way that both their forms
102
were quite so quick exchanging substance.
Their corresponding changes went like this: →
the reptile split its tail into a fork
105
and he that was wounded drew his feet together.
First his calves and then his thighs began
to knit so that in but a moment
108
no sign of a division could be seen.
The cloven tail assumed the shapes
the other one was losing, and his skin
111
was turning soft while the other’s hardened.
I saw the man’s arms shrinking toward the armpits
and the brute’s forepaws, which had been short,
114
lengthen, precisely as the other’s dwindled.
Then the hind-paws, twisting together,