Inferno Canto 5
Canto V
Argument
Coming into the second circle of Hell, Dante at the entrance beholds Minos the Infernal Judge, by whom he is admonished to beware how he enters those regions. Here he witnesses the punishment of carnal sinners, who are tossed about ceaselessly in the dark air by the most furious winds. Amont these, he meets with Francesca of Rimini, through pity at whose sad tale he falls fainting to the ground.
From the first circle I descended thus Down to the second, which, a lesser space Embracing, so much more of grief contains, Provoking bitter moans. There Minos stands, Grinning with ghastly feature: he, of all Who enter, strict examining the crimes, Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath, According as he foldeth him around: For when before him comes the ill - fated soul, It all confesses; and that judge severe Of sins, considering what place in Hell Suits the transgression, with his tail so oft Himself encircles, as degrees beneath He dooms it to descend. Before him stand Always a numerous throng; and in his turn Each one to judgment passing, speaks, and hears His fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl'd.
"O thou! who to this residence of woe Approachest!" when he saw me coming, cried Minos, relinquishing his dread employ,
"Look how thou enter here; beware in whom Thou place thy trust; let not the entrance broad Deceive thee to thy harm." To him my guide:
"Wherefore exclaimest? Hinder not his way By destiny appointed; so 'tis will'd, Where will and power are one. Ask thou no more."
Now 'gin the rueful wailings to be heard.
Now am I come where many a plaining voice Smites on mine ear. Into a place I came Where light was silent all. Bellowing there groan'd A noise, as of a sea in tempest torn By warring winds. The stormy blast of Hell With restless fury drives the spirits on, Whirl'd round and dash'd amain with sore annoy.
When they arrive before the ruinous sweep, There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans, And blasphemies 'gainst the good Power in Heaven.
I understood, that to this torment sad The carnal sinners are condemn'd, in whom Reason by lust is sway'd. As, in large troops And multitudinous, when winter reigns, The starlings on their wings are borne abroad;
So bears the tyrannous gust those evil souls.
On this side and on that, above, below, It drives them: hope of rest to solace them Is none, nor e'en of milder pang. As cranes, Chanting their dolorous notes, traverse the sky, Stretch'd out in long array; so I beheld Spirits, who came loud wailing, hurried on By their dire doom. Then I: "Instructor! who Are these, by the black air so scourged? The first
'Mong those, of whom thou question'st," he replied,
"O'er many tongues was empress. She in vice Of luxury was so shameless, that she made Liking be lawful by promulged decree, To clear the blame she had herself incurr'd.
This is Semiramis, of whom 'tis writ, That she succeeded Ninus her espoused;
And held the land, which now the Soldan rules.
The next in amorous fury slew herself, And to Sichaeus' ashes broke her faith: Then follows Cleopatra, lustful queen."
There mark'd I Helen, for whose sake so long The time was fraught with evil; there the great Achilles, who with love fought to the end.
Paris I saw, and Tristan; and beside, A thousand more he show'd me, and by name Pointed them out, whom love bereaved of life.
When I had heard my sage instructor name Those dames and knights of antique days, o'erpower'd By pity, well - nigh in amaze my mind Was lost; and I began: "Bard! willingly I would address those two together coming, Which seem so light before the wind." He thus:
"Note thou, when nearer they to us approach.
Then by that love which carries them along, Entreat; and they will come." Soon as the wind Sway'd them towards us, I thus framed my speech:
"O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourse With us, if by none else restrain'd. As doves By fond desire invited, on wide wings And firm, to their sweet nest returning home, Cleave the air, wafted by their will along;
Thus issued, from that troop where Dido ranks, They, through the ill air speeding: with such force My cry prevail'd, by strong affection urged.
"O gracious creature and benign! who go'st Visiting, through this element obscure, Us, who the world with bloody stain imbrued;
If, for a friend, the King of all, we own'd, Our prayer to him should for thy peace arise, Since thou hast pity on our evil plight.
Of whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind, As now, is mute. The land, that gave me birth, Is situate on the coast, where Po descends To rest in ocean with his sequent streams.
[1: "The land." Ravenna.]
"Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt, Entangled him by that fair form, from me Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still: Love, that denial takes from none beloved, Caught me with pleasing him so passing well, That, as thou seest, he yet deserts me not.
Love brought us to one death: Caina waits The soul, who spilt our life." Such were their words;
At hearing which, downward I bent my looks, And held them there so long, that the bard cried:
"What art thou pondering?" I in answer thus:
"Alas! by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire Must they at length to that ill pass have reach'd!"
Then turning, I to them my speech address'd,
[2: "Caina." The place to which murderers are doomed.]
And thus began: "Francesca! your sad fate Even to tears my grief and pity moves.
But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs, By what, and how Love granted, that ye knew Your yet uncertain wishes?" She replied:
"No greater grief than to remember days Of joy, when misery is at hand. That kens Thy learn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly If thou art bent to know the primal root, From whence our love gat being, I will do As one, who weeps and tells his tale. One day, For our delight we read of Lancelot, How him love thrall'd. Alone we were, and no Suspicion near us. Oft - times by that reading Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue Fled from our alter'd cheek. But at one point Alone we fell. When of that smile we read, The wished smile so raptorously kiss'd By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er From me shall separate, at once my lips All trembling kiss'd. The book and writer both Were love's purveyors. In its leaves that day We read no more." While thus one spirit spake, The other wail'd so sorely, that heart - struck I, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far From death, and like a corse fell to the ground.
[3: "Francesca." Francesca, the daughter of Guido da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna, was given by her father in marriage to Gianciotto, son of Malatesta, Lord of Rimini, a man of extraordinary courage, but deformed in his person.
His brother Paolo, who unhappily possessed those graces which the husband of Francesca wanted, engaged her affections; and being taken in adultery, they were both put to death by the enraged Gianciotto.]
[4: \"Lancelot." One of the Knights of the Round Table, and the lover of Ginevra, or Guinever, celebrated in romance. The incident alluded to seems to have made a strong impression on the imagination of Dante, who introduces it again, in the Paradise, Canto xvi.]
Argument
Coming into the second circle of Hell, Dante at the entrance beholds Minos the Infernal Judge, by whom he is admonished to beware how he enters those regions. Here he witnesses the punishment of carnal sinners, who are tossed about ceaselessly in the dark air by the most furious winds. Amont these, he meets with Francesca of Rimini, through pity at whose sad tale he falls fainting to the ground.
From the first circle I descended thus Down to the second, which, a lesser space Embracing, so much more of grief contains, Provoking bitter moans. There Minos stands, Grinning with ghastly feature: he, of all Who enter, strict examining the crimes, Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath, According as he foldeth him around: For when before him comes the ill - fated soul, It all confesses; and that judge severe Of sins, considering what place in Hell Suits the transgression, with his tail so oft Himself encircles, as degrees beneath He dooms it to descend. Before him stand Always a numerous throng; and in his turn Each one to judgment passing, speaks, and hears His fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl'd.
"O thou! who to this residence of woe Approachest!" when he saw me coming, cried Minos, relinquishing his dread employ,
"Look how thou enter here; beware in whom Thou place thy trust; let not the entrance broad Deceive thee to thy harm." To him my guide:
"Wherefore exclaimest? Hinder not his way By destiny appointed; so 'tis will'd, Where will and power are one. Ask thou no more."
Now 'gin the rueful wailings to be heard.
Now am I come where many a plaining voice Smites on mine ear. Into a place I came Where light was silent all. Bellowing there groan'd A noise, as of a sea in tempest torn By warring winds. The stormy blast of Hell With restless fury drives the spirits on, Whirl'd round and dash'd amain with sore annoy.
When they arrive before the ruinous sweep, There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans, And blasphemies 'gainst the good Power in Heaven.
I understood, that to this torment sad The carnal sinners are condemn'd, in whom Reason by lust is sway'd. As, in large troops And multitudinous, when winter reigns, The starlings on their wings are borne abroad;
So bears the tyrannous gust those evil souls.
On this side and on that, above, below, It drives them: hope of rest to solace them Is none, nor e'en of milder pang. As cranes, Chanting their dolorous notes, traverse the sky, Stretch'd out in long array; so I beheld Spirits, who came loud wailing, hurried on By their dire doom. Then I: "Instructor! who Are these, by the black air so scourged? The first
'Mong those, of whom thou question'st," he replied,
"O'er many tongues was empress. She in vice Of luxury was so shameless, that she made Liking be lawful by promulged decree, To clear the blame she had herself incurr'd.
This is Semiramis, of whom 'tis writ, That she succeeded Ninus her espoused;
And held the land, which now the Soldan rules.
The next in amorous fury slew herself, And to Sichaeus' ashes broke her faith: Then follows Cleopatra, lustful queen."
There mark'd I Helen, for whose sake so long The time was fraught with evil; there the great Achilles, who with love fought to the end.
Paris I saw, and Tristan; and beside, A thousand more he show'd me, and by name Pointed them out, whom love bereaved of life.
When I had heard my sage instructor name Those dames and knights of antique days, o'erpower'd By pity, well - nigh in amaze my mind Was lost; and I began: "Bard! willingly I would address those two together coming, Which seem so light before the wind." He thus:
"Note thou, when nearer they to us approach.
Then by that love which carries them along, Entreat; and they will come." Soon as the wind Sway'd them towards us, I thus framed my speech:
"O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourse With us, if by none else restrain'd. As doves By fond desire invited, on wide wings And firm, to their sweet nest returning home, Cleave the air, wafted by their will along;
Thus issued, from that troop where Dido ranks, They, through the ill air speeding: with such force My cry prevail'd, by strong affection urged.
"O gracious creature and benign! who go'st Visiting, through this element obscure, Us, who the world with bloody stain imbrued;
If, for a friend, the King of all, we own'd, Our prayer to him should for thy peace arise, Since thou hast pity on our evil plight.
Of whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind, As now, is mute. The land, that gave me birth, Is situate on the coast, where Po descends To rest in ocean with his sequent streams.
[1: "The land." Ravenna.]
"Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt, Entangled him by that fair form, from me Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still: Love, that denial takes from none beloved, Caught me with pleasing him so passing well, That, as thou seest, he yet deserts me not.
Love brought us to one death: Caina waits The soul, who spilt our life." Such were their words;
At hearing which, downward I bent my looks, And held them there so long, that the bard cried:
"What art thou pondering?" I in answer thus:
"Alas! by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire Must they at length to that ill pass have reach'd!"
Then turning, I to them my speech address'd,
[2: "Caina." The place to which murderers are doomed.]
And thus began: "Francesca! your sad fate Even to tears my grief and pity moves.
But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs, By what, and how Love granted, that ye knew Your yet uncertain wishes?" She replied:
"No greater grief than to remember days Of joy, when misery is at hand. That kens Thy learn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly If thou art bent to know the primal root, From whence our love gat being, I will do As one, who weeps and tells his tale. One day, For our delight we read of Lancelot, How him love thrall'd. Alone we were, and no Suspicion near us. Oft - times by that reading Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue Fled from our alter'd cheek. But at one point Alone we fell. When of that smile we read, The wished smile so raptorously kiss'd By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er From me shall separate, at once my lips All trembling kiss'd. The book and writer both Were love's purveyors. In its leaves that day We read no more." While thus one spirit spake, The other wail'd so sorely, that heart - struck I, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far From death, and like a corse fell to the ground.
[3: "Francesca." Francesca, the daughter of Guido da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna, was given by her father in marriage to Gianciotto, son of Malatesta, Lord of Rimini, a man of extraordinary courage, but deformed in his person.
His brother Paolo, who unhappily possessed those graces which the husband of Francesca wanted, engaged her affections; and being taken in adultery, they were both put to death by the enraged Gianciotto.]
[4: \"Lancelot." One of the Knights of the Round Table, and the lover of Ginevra, or Guinever, celebrated in romance. The incident alluded to seems to have made a strong impression on the imagination of Dante, who introduces it again, in the Paradise, Canto xvi.]
