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    "slug": "inferno",
    "name": "Inferno"
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      "name": "Divine Comedy",
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  "chapter": {
    "num": 27,
    "slug": "canto-27",
    "title": "Inferno · Canto 27",
    "of": 34,
    "words": 1514,
    "text": "## Inferno Canto 27\n\n\nCanto XXVII\n\nArgument\n\nThe Poet, treating of the same punishment as in the last Canto, relates\nthat he turned toward a flame in which was the Count Guido da Montefeltro,\nwhose inquiries respecting the state of Romagna he answers; and Guido is\nthereby induced to declare who he is, and why condemned to that torment.\n\nNow upward rose the flame, and still'd its light\nTo speak no more, and now pass'd on with leave\nFrom the mild poet gain'd; when following came\nAnother, from whose top a sound confused,\nForth issuing, drew our eyes that way to look.\n\nAs the Sicilian bull,[1] that rightfully\nHis cries first echoed who had shaped its mould,\nDid so rebellow, with the voice of him\nTormented, that the brazen monster seem'd\nPierced through with pain; thus, while no way they found,\nNor avenue immediate through the flame,\nInto its language turn'd the dismal words:\nBut soon as they had won their passage forth,\nUp from the point, which vibrating obey'd\nTheir motion at the tongue, these sounds were heard:\n\"O thou! to whom I now direct my voice,\nThat lately didst exclaim in Lombard phrase,\n'Depart thou; I solicit thee no more;'\nThough somewhat tardy I perchance arrive,\nLet it not irk thee here to pause awhile,\n\n[1: The engine of torture invented by Perillus, for the tyrant\nPhalaris.]\n\nAnd with me parley: lo! it irks not me,\nAnd yet I burn. If but e'en now thou fall\nInto this blind world, from that pleasant land\nOf Latium, whence I draw my sum of guilt,\nTell me if those who in Romagna dwell\nHave peace or war. For of the mountains there[2]\nWas I, betwixt Urbino and the height\nWhence Tiber first unlocks his mighty flood.\"\n\n[2: Montefeltro.]\n\nLeaning I listen'd yet with heedful ear,\nWhen, as he touch'd my side, the leader thus:\n\"Speak thou: he is a Latian.\" My reply\nWas ready, and I spake without delay:\n\"O spirit! who art hidden here below,\nNever was thy Romagna without war\nIn her proud tyrants' bosoms, nor is now:\nBut open war there left I none. The state,\nRavenna hath maintain'd this many a year,\nIs steadfast. There Polenta's eagle[3] broods;\nAnd in his broad circumference of plume\nO'ershadows Cervia. The green talons grasp\nThe land,[4] that stood erewhile the proof so long\nAnd piled in bloody heap the host of France.\n\n[3: Polenta's eagle.\" Guido Novello da Polenta, who bore an eagle for\nhis coat - of - arms. The name of Polenta was derived from a castle so called\nin the neighborhood of Brittonoro. Cervia is a small maritime city, about\nfifteen miles to the south of Ravenna. Guido was the son of Ostasio da\nPolenta, and made himself master of Ravenna in 1265. In 1322 he was deprived\nof his sovereignty, and died at Bologna in 1323. This last and most munificent\npatron of Dante is enumerated among the poets of his time.]\n\n[4: The territory of Forli, the inhabitants of which, in 1282, were\nenabled, by the stratagem of Guido da Montefeltro, the governor, to defeat the\nFrench army by which it had been besieged. See G. Villani, lib. vii. c. lxxxi.\nThe Poet informs Guido, its former ruler, that it is now in the possession of\nSinibaldo Ordolaffi, whom he designates by his coat - of - arms, a lion vert.]\n\n\"The old mastiff of Verrucchio and the young,[5]\nThat tore Montagna[6] in their wrath, still make,\nWhere they are wont, an augre of their fangs.\n\n[5: Malatesta and Malatestino his son, lords of Rimini, called from\ntheir ferocity, the mastiffs of Verrucchio, which was the name of their\ncastle. Malatestino was, perhaps, the husband of Francesca, daughter of Guido\nda Polenta. See notes to Canto v. 113.]\n\n[6: Montagna de' Parcitati, a noble and leader of the Ghibelline\nparty at Rimini, murdered by Malatestino.]\n\n\"Lamone's city, and Santerno's,[7] range\n\n[7: Lamone is the river at Faenza, and Santerno at Imola.]\n\nUnder the lion of the snowy lair,[8]\nInconstant partisan, that changeth sides,\nOr ever summer yields to winter's frost.\nAnd she, whose flank is wash'd of Savio's wave,[9]\nAs 'twixt the level and the steep she lies,\nLives so 'twixt tyrant power and liberty.\n\n[8: Machinardo Pagano, whose arms were a lion azure on a field\nargent. See also Purgatory, Canto xiv. 122]\n\n[9: Cesena, situated at the foot of a mountain, and washed by the\nriver Savio, that often descends with a swollen and rapid stream from the\nApennines.]\n\n\"Now tell us, I entreat thee, who art thou:\nBe not more hard than others. In the world,\nSo may thy name still rear its forehead high.\"\n\nThen roar'd awhile the fire, its sharpen'd point\nOn either side waved, and thus breathed at last:\n\"If I did think my answer were to one\nWho ever could return unto the world,\nThis flame should rest unshaken. But since ne'er,\nIf true be told me, any from this depth\nHas found his upward way, I answer thee,\nNor fear lest infamy record the words.\n\n\"A man of arms[10] at first, I clothed me then\nIn good Saint Francis' girdle, hoping so\nTo have made amends. And certainly my hope\nHad fail'd not, but that he, whom curses light on,\nThe high priest,[11] again seduced me into sin.\nAnd how, and wherefore, listen while I tell.\nLong as this spirit moved the bones and pulp\nMy mother gave me, less my deeds bespake\nThe nature of the lion than the fox.\nAll ways of winding subtlety I knew,\nAnd with such art conducted, that the sound\nReach'd the world's limit. Soon as to that part\nOf life I found me come, and when each behoves\nTo lower sails and gather in the lines;\nThat, which before had pleased me, then I rued,\nAnd to repentance and confession turn'd,\nWretch that I was; and well it had bestead me.\n\n[10: Guido da Montefeltro.]\n\n[11: Boniface VIII.]\n\nThe chief of the new Pharisees[12] meantime,\nWaging his warfare near the Lateran,\nNot with the Saracens or Jews (his foes\nAll Christians were, nor against Acre one\nHad fought,[13] nor traffick'd in the Soldan's land),\nHe, his great charge nor sacred ministry,\nIn himself reverenced, nor in me that cord\nWhsch used to mark with leanness whom it girded.\nAs in Soracte, Constantine besought,\nTo cure his leprosy, Sylvester's aid;\nSo me, to cure the fever of his pride,\nThis man besought: my counsel to that end\nHe ask'd; and I was silent; for his words\nSeem'd drunken: but forthwith he thus resumed:\n'From thy heart banish fear: of all offence\nI hitherto absolve thee. In return,\nTeach me my purpose so to execute,\nThat Penestrino cumber earth no more.\nHeaven, as thou knowest, I have power to shut\nAnd open: and the keys are therefore twain,\nThe which my predecessor[14] meanly prized.'\n\n[12: Boniface, VIII, whose enmity to the family of Colonna prompted\nhim to destroy their houses near the Lateran. Wishing to obtain possession of\ntheir other seat, Penestrino, he consulted with Guido da Montefeltro, offering\nhim absolution for his past sins, as well as for that which he was then\ntempting him to commit. Guido's advice was that kind words and fair promises\nwould put his enemies into his power; and they accordingly soon afterward fell\ninto the snare laid for them, 1298.]\n\n[13: Alluding to the renegade Christians, by whom the Saracens, in\nApril, 1291, were assisted to recover St. John d'Acre, the last possession of\nthe Christians in the Holy Land.]\n\n[14: Celestine V. See notes to Canto iii]\n\n\"Then, yielding to the forceful arguments,\nOf silence, as more perilous I deem'd,\nAnd answer'd: 'Father! since thou washest me\nClear of that guilt wherein I now must fall,\nLarge promise with performance scant, be sure,\nShall make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.'\n\n\"When I was number'd with the dead, then came\nSaint Francis for me; but a cherub dark\nHe met, who cried, 'Wrong me not; he is mine,\nAnd must below to join the wretched crew,\n\nFor the deceitful counsel which he gave.\nE'er since I watch'd him, hovering at his hair.\nNo power can the impenitent absolve;\nNor to repent, and will, at once consist,\nBy contradiction absolute forbid.'\nOh misery! how I shook myself, when he\nSeized me, and cried, \"Thou haply thought'st me not\nA disputant in logic so exact!'\nTo Minos down he bore me; and the judge\nTwined eight times round his callous back the tail,\nWhich biting with excess of rage, he spake:\n'This is a guilty soul, that in the fire\nMust vanish.' Hence, perdition - doom'd, I rove\nA prey to rankling sorrow, in this garb.\"\n\nWhen he had thus fulfill'd his words, the flame\nIn dolour parted, beating to and fro,\nAnd writhing its sharp horn. We onward went,\nI and my leader, up along the rock,\nFar as another arch, that overhangs\nThe foss, wherein the penalty is paid\nOf those who load them with committed sin.",
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