"Inferno" by Dante Alighieri, Canto 6–10

His eyes glare crimson, black his unctuous beard,
His belly large, and claw’d the hands, with which
He tears the spirits, flays them, and their limbs
Piecemeal disparts.

When that great worm
Descried us, savage Cerberus, he op’d
His jaws, and the fangs show’d us; not a limb
Of him but trembled.

We, o’er the shades thrown prostrate by the brunt
Of the heavy tempest passing, set our feet
Upon their emptiness, that substance seem’d.

This said, his fixed eyes he turn’d askance,
A little ey’d me, then bent down his head,
And ’midst his blind companions with it fell.

E’en as a billow, on Charybdis rising,
Against encounter’d billow dashing breaks;
Such is the dance this wretched race must lead,
Whom more than elsewhere numerous here I found,
From one side and the other, with loud voice,
Both roll’d on weights by main forge of their breasts,
Then smote together, and each one forthwith
Roll’d them back voluble, turning again,
Exclaiming these, “Why holdest thou so fast?”

That ignoble life,
Which made them vile before, now makes them dark,
And to all knowledge indiscernible.

This is she,
So execrated e’en by those, whose debt
To her is rather praise; they wrongfully
With blame requite her, and with evil word;
But she is blessed, and for that recks not:
Amidst the other primal beings glad
Rolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults.

Intent I stood
To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried
A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks
Betok’ning rage.

Such dolorous strain they gurgle in their throats.

And thus the good instructor: “Now, my son!
Draws near the city, that of Dis is nam’d,
With its grave denizens, a mighty throng.”

That lake, the noisome stench exhaling, round
The city’ of grief encompasses, which now
We may not enter without rage.”

Then of some delay
I made ere my reply aware, down fell
Supine, not after forth appear’d he more.

Sighing he shook
The head, then thus resum’d: “In that affray
I stood not singly, nor without just cause
Assuredly should with the rest have stirr’d;
But singly there I stood, when by consent
Of all, Florence had to the ground been raz’d,
The one who openly forbad the deed.”

“So may thy lineage find at last repose,”
I thus adjur’d him, “as thou solve this knot,
Which now involves my mind. If right I hear,
Ye seem to view beforehand, that which time
Leads with him, of the present uninform’d.”

But I my steps towards the ancient bard
Reverting, ruminated on the words
Betokening me such ill.