Dante Inferno Canto 24 translated by David Bruce Gain

`twas new year, when the sun renews his rays

In Aquarius and nights equal the days,
When frost paints his snow sister on the slades;
His feather`s fashioning`s fine, but she soon fades.
The hind wakes, rises and goes to the sight
Of hungry sheep, whose fields are snowy white.
He goes inside and smites his thighs in ire
And paces up and down; his thoughts are dire.
He goes outside, dreading a sight so base,
But joy! the world`s most sudden change of face;
His sheep now graze in their lush pasture place.
Just so my master`s mien gave me great grief,
But just as soon came healing raw relief.
I saw when at the bridge`s ruined pile
What I`d first seen at the mount`s foot ~ his smile.
He hatched a plan to climb up to the wold,
Then oped his arms to have me in his hold.
He was most like a man who takes great pains
In earning what he most wants ~ well~got gains.
So, while he raised me up to one great tor
He had already singled out one more.
He: "This rock there is not for the sedate;
Test it first to see if it holds your weight".
It was no road for one cumbered by aught.
E`en though I had his help and he weighed naught
We could but barely reach the rocks we sought.
And, had it not been that the bank we saw
Was lower than the one we`d climbed before,
I for one woujld most certainly have quit.
But since the slope of each most evil pit
Is all towards the lowest yawning well,
The banks in front are all of lesser swell.
When our most perilous path was passed
We reached the end of the loose rocks at last.
The top saw me so tired I had to stay,
Since I could go no further on the way.
My master: "Move on; those whom sloth gives shame,
Who sit or lie `neath quilts, will ne`er win fame,
Without which men but waste their lives up there
On earth, and of themselves give no more share
Than foam on water or than smoke in air.
Stand up! O`ercome this weariness of yours
With the strength of spirit which, if it scores
Against the body`s weight, will win all wars.
There are far steeper stairs we`ll have to see;
Our need to see sinners leaves us unfree;
If you understand, then act; learn from me".
I stand up straight though I`d rather be still;
I`m short of breath, but very long of will.
We climbed and went across the bridge ~ a chore;
`twas jagged, tight and killing to cross o`er,
Far steeper than any we had crossed before.
Not to seem faint, I spoke; my voice was clear
While that from the next deep chasm was queer.
Since it seemed as if he spoke at a run;
E`en though up high (our ascent was done)
Of all the words which he used I knew none.
I was bent o`er, but no living eyes` light
Could penetrate the gloom of that dead night.
And so I said: "Guide, I burn with desire
To cross this bridge to the next bounding gyre,
Since I hear strange words which I have not caught
And peer down deep below but can see naught".
He: "I`ll do what you ask; a fitting suit
Is answered best in fitting deed and mute".
From the bridge`s height we came down and straight
To where it ends and joins th` edge of bank eight.
The bag below me straight away awakes;
On offer: taut tangles of hissing snakes.
They were, all of them, of such monstrous mould
The thought of them still makes my blood run cold.
Libya breeds Faree and Iaculi,
Also Anfisibena and Cencri;
Yet she can no longer boast of her sands,
Surpassed by all these hissing venom bands,
Not e`en combined with those of Araby
Or all the sands that lie by the Red Sea.
Terrified and naked hordes all grope
In this abundant and cruel store, without hope
Of finding hiding~holes or heliotrope.
Their hands are tied behind their backs with snakes,
A breed which crawls around the loins and takes
The front parts with the knotted coils it makes.
When a sinner came running near our coign
A snake struck him where neck and shoulder join.
Ne`er was "o" or "i" writ with but one dash
Quicker than he took fire and burned to ash.
These unhelped scattered ashes formed a store,
Then quickly took the form they had before.
Just so, says the philosopher, the seer,
The fired phoenix dies, but to reappear
As she approaches her five~hundredth year.
When living, incense and amomum were
Her only food (no herb or grain for her)
And her last swathings are of nard and myrrh.
A man falls puzzled ~ blockage chokes his breath
Or else some hidden demon deals brief death.
He, when he rises, rolls around his eyes,
Dazed and bewildered by the mighty ties
And anguish he`s endured and, staring, sighs.
So did this sinner when he finally rose.
How harsh the power of the Lord, with blows
Of vicious vengeance raining down like those!
My master asked him who he was before.
So he: "I`ve come just now like a downpour
From Tuscany into this ravening maw.
I, Vanni Fucci, was a bastard then;
A beast`s life pleased me and not that of men;
For me, Pistoia was a fitting den".
I told my guide: "Tell him not to rampage;
Ask him what sin has driven him to this cage;
I, I knew him for a man of bloody rage".
The sinnner heard and yet did not disclaim;
The face I saw was like an arrow`s aim;
He reddened with a look of ugly shame.
"I grieve you`ve found me in this place of strife
More than I did the day I lost my life".
So he; "Answer I must although not lief;
Church vestments sent me here; I am a thief;
Another was charged. No joy comes from me
If ever this dark pit lets you go free;
Open your ears and hear my prophecy:
Pistoia shall be stripped of every Black;
Florence`s laws and men shall be changed back.
From Val di Magra Mars shall draw a whirl
Of turbid clouds; a sudden storm shall hurl
A bolt over Picen and the fierce fight
That thus results shall not spare any White;
I hope the grief I`ve caused you won`t be slight".