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  "work": {
    "slug": "inferno",
    "name": "Inferno"
  },
  "parents": [
    {
      "slug": "divine-comedy",
      "name": "Divine Comedy",
      "url": "/sources/divine-comedy/"
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  "chapter": {
    "num": 14,
    "slug": "canto-14",
    "title": "Inferno · Canto 14",
    "of": 34,
    "words": 1297,
    "text": "## Inferno Canto 14\n\n\nCanto XIV\n\nArgument\n\nThey arrive at the beginning of the third of those compartments into\nwhich this seventh circle is divided. It is a plain of dry and hot sand, where\nthree kinds of violence are punished; namely, against God, against Nature, and\nagainst Art; and those who have thus sinned, are tormented by flakes of fire,\nwhich are eternally showering down upon them. Among the violent against God is\nfound Capaneus, whose blasphemies they hear. Next, turning to the left along\nthe forest of self - slayers, and having journeyed a little onward, they meet\nwith a streamlet of blood that issues from the forest and traverses the sandy\nplain. Here Virgil speaks to our Poet of a huge ancient statue that stands\nwithin Mount Ida in Crete, from a fissure in which statue there is a dripping\nof tears, from which the said streamlet, together with the three other\ninfernal rivers, are formed.\n\nSoon as the charity of native land\nWrought in my bosom, I the scatter'd leaves\nCollected, and to him restored, who now\nWas hoarse with utterance. To the limit thence\nWe came, which from the third the second round\nDivides, and where of justice is display'd\nContrivance horrible. Things then first seen\nClearlier to manifest, I tell how next\nA plain we reach'd, that from its sterile bed\nEach plant repell'd. The mournful wood waves round\nIts garland on all sides, as round the wood\nSpreads the sad foss. There, on the very edge,\nOur steps we stay'd. It was an area wide\nOf arid sand and thick, resembling most\nThe soil that erst by Cato's foot was trod.\n\nVengeance of heaven! Oh! how shouldst thou be fear'd\nBy all, who read what here mine eyes beheld.\n\nOf naked spirits many a flock I saw,\nAll weeping piteously, to different laws\nSubjected; for on the earth some lay supine,\nSome crouching close were seated, others paced\nIncessantly around; the latter tribe\nMore numerous, those fewer who beneath\nThe torment lay, but louder in their grief.\n\nO'er all the sand fell slowly wafting down\nDilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snow\nOn Alpine summit, when the wind is hush'd.\nAs, in the torrid Indian clime, the son\nOf Ammon saw, upon his warrior band\nDescending, solid flames, that to the ground\nCame down; whence he bethought him with his troop\nTo trample on the soil; for easier thus\nThe vapor was extinguish'd, while alone:\nSo fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewith\nThe marle glow'd underneath, as under stove\nThe viands, doubly to augment the pain.\nUnceasing was the play of wretched hands,\nNow this, now that way glancing, to shake off\nThe heat, still falling fresh. I thus began:\n\"Instructor! thou who all things overcomest,\nExcept the hardy demons that rush'd forth\nTo stop our entrance at the gate, say who\nIs yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds not\nThe burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn,\nAs by the sultry tempest immatured?\"\n\nStraight he himself, who was aware I ask'd\nMy guide of him, exclaim'd: \"Such as I was\nWhen living, dead such now I am. If Jove\nWeary his workman out, from whom in ire\nHe snatch'd the lightnings, that at my last day\nTransfix'd me; if the rest he weary out,\nAt their black smithy laboring by turns,\nIn Mongibello, while he cries aloud,\n'Help, help, good Mulciber!' as erst he cried\nIn the Phlegraean warfare; and the bolts\nLaunch he, full aim'd at me, with all his might;\nHe never should enjoy a sweet revenge.\"\n\nThen thus my guide, in accent higher raised\nThan I before had heard him: \"Capaneus!\nThou art more punish'd, in that this thy pride\nLives yet unquench'd: no torment, save thy rage,\nWere to thy fury pain proportion'd full.\"\n\nNext turning round to me, with milder lip\nHe spake: \"This of the seven kings was one,\nWho girt the Theban walls with siege, and held,\nAs still he seems to hold, God in disdain,\nAnd sets His high omnipotence at naught.\nBut, as I told him, his despiteful mood\nIs ornament well suits the breast that wears it.\nFollow me now; and look thou set not yet\nThy foot in the hot sand, but to the wood\nKeep ever close.\" Silently on we pass'd\nTo where there gushes from the forest's bound\nA little brook, whose crimson'd wave yet lifts\nMy hair with horror. As the rill, that runs\nFrom Bulicame,[1] to be portion'd out\nAmong the sinful women, so ran this\nDown through the sand; its bottom and each bank\nStone - built, and either margin at its side,\nWhereon I straight perceived our passage lay.\n\n[1: A warm medicinal spring near Viterbo; the waters of which, as\nLandino and Vellutelli affirm, passed by a place of ill - fame. Venturi\nconjectures that Dante would imply that it was the scene of licentious\nmerriment among those who frequented its baths.]\n\n\"Of all that I have shown thee, since that gate\nWe enter'd first, whose threshold is to none\nDenied, naught else so worthy of regard,\nAs is this river, has thine eye discern'd,\nO'er which the flaming volley all is quench'd.\"\n\nSo spake my guide; and I him thence besought,\nThat having given me appetite to know,\nThe food he too would give, that hunger craved.\n\n\"In midst of ocean,\" forthwith he began,\n\"A desolate country lies, which Crete is named;\nUnder whose monarch, in old times, the world\nLived pure and chaste. A mountain rises there,\nCall'd Ida, joyous once with leaves and streams,\nDeserted now like a forbidden thing.\nIt was the spot which Rhea, Saturn's spouse,\nChose for the secret cradle of her son;\nAnd better to conceal him, drown'd in shouts\nHis infant cries. Within the mount, upright\nAn ancient form there stands, and huge, that turns\nHis shoulders toward Damiata; and at Rome,\nAs in his mirror, looks. Of finest gold\nHis head is shaped, pure silver are the breast\nAnd arms, thence to the middle is of brass,\nAnd downward all beneath well - temper'd steel,\nSave the right foot of potter's clay, on which\nThan on the other more erect he stands.\nEach part, except the gold, is rent throughout;\nAnd from the fissure tears distil, which join'd\nPenetrate to that cave. They in their course,\nThus far precipitated down the rock,\nForm Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon;\nThen by this straiten'd channel passing hence\nBeneath e'en to the lowest depth of all,\nForm there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyself\nShalt see it) I here give thee no account.\"\n\nThen I to him: \"If from our world this sluice\nBe thus derived; wherefore to us but now\nAppears it at this edge?\" He straight replied:\n\"The place, thou know'st, is round: and though great part\nThou have already past, still to the left\nDescending to the nethermost, not yet\nHast thou the circuit made of the whole orb.\nWherefore, if aught of new to us appear,\nIt needs not bring up wonder in thy looks.\"\n\nThen I again inquired: \"Where flow the streams\nOf Phlegethon and Lethe? for of one\nThou tell'st not; and the other, of that shower,\nThou say'st, is form'd.\" He answer thus return'd:\n\"Doubtless thy questions all well pleased I hear.\nYet the red seething wave[2] might have resolved\nOne thou proposest. Lethe thou shalt see,\nBut not within this hollow, in the place\nWhither,[3] to lave themselves, the spirits go,\nWhose blame hath been by penitence removed.\"\nHe added: \"Time is now we quit the wood.\nLook thou my steps pursue: the margins give\nSafe passage, unimpeded by the flames;\nFor over them all vapor is extinct.\"\n\n[2: Phlegethon.]\n\n[3: The other side of Purgatory]",
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}