{
  "meta": {
    "schema_version": "1.1",
    "endpoint": "/api/sources/divine-comedy/inferno/canto-30.json"
  },
  "work": {
    "slug": "inferno",
    "name": "Inferno"
  },
  "parents": [
    {
      "slug": "divine-comedy",
      "name": "Divine Comedy",
      "url": "/sources/divine-comedy/"
    }
  ],
  "chapter": {
    "num": 30,
    "slug": "canto-30",
    "title": "Inferno · Canto 30",
    "of": 34,
    "words": 1360,
    "text": "## Inferno Canto 30\n\n\nCanto XXX\n\nArgument\n\nIn the same gulf, other kinds of impostors, as those who have\ncounterfeited the persons of others, or debased the current coin, or deceived\nby speech under false pretences, are described as suffering various diseases.\nSinon of Troy and Adamo of Brescia mutually reproach each other with their\nseveral impostures.\n\nWhat time resentment burn'd in Juno's breast\nFrom Semele against the Theban blood,\nAs more than once in dire mischance was rued;\nSuch fatal frenzy seized on Athamas,\nThat he his spouse beholding with a babe\nLaden on either arm, \"Spread out,\" he cried,\n\"The meshes, that I take the lioness\nAnd the young lions at the pass:\" then forth\nStretch'd he his merciless talons, grasping one,\nOne helpless innocent, Learchus named,\nWhom swinging down he dash'd upon a rock;\nAnd with her other burden, self - destroy'd,\nThe hapless mother plunged. And when the pride\nOf all presuming Troy fell from its height,\nBy fortune overwhelm'd, and the old king\nWith his realm perish'd; then did Hecuba,\nA wretch forlorn and captive, when she saw\nPolyxena first slaughter'd, and her son,\nHer Polydorus, on the wild sea - beach\nNext met the mourner's view, then reft of sense\nDid she run barking even as a dog;\nSuch mighty power had grief to wrench her soul.\nBut ne'er the Furies, or of Thebes, or Troy,\nWith such fell cruelty were seen, their goads\nInfixing in the limbs of man or beast,\nAs now two pale and naked ghosts I saw,\nThat gnarling wildly scamper'd, like the swine\nExcluded from his stye. One reach'd Capocchio,\nAnd in the neck - joint sticking deep his fangs,\nDragg'd him, that, o'er the solid pavement rubb'd\nHis belly stretch'd out prone. The other shape,\nHe of Arezzo, there left trembling, spake:\n\"That sprite of air is Schicchi;[1] in like mood\nOf random mischief vents he still his spite.\"\n\n[1: Gianni Schicchi, of the family of Cavalcanti, possessed such a\nfaculty of molding his features to the resemblance of others, that he was\nemployed by Simon Donati to personate Buoso Donati, then recently deceased,\nand to make a will, leaving Simon his heir; for which service he was\nremunerated with a mare of extraordinary value, here called \"the lady of the\nherd.\"]\n\nTo whom I answering: \"Oh! as thou dost hope\nThe other may not flesh its jaws on thee,\nBe patient to inform us, who it is,\nEre it speed hence.\" - \"That is the ancient soul\nOf wretched Myrrha,\" he replied, \"who burn'd\nWith most unholy flame for her own sire,\nAnd a false shape assuming, so perform'd\nThe deed of sin; e'en as the other there,\nThat onward passes, dared to counterfeit\nDonati's features, to feign'd testament\nThe seal affixing, that himself might gain,\nFor his own share, the lady of the herd.\"\n\nWhen vanish'd the two furious shades, on whom\nMine eye was held, I turn'd it back to view\nThe other cursed spirits. One I saw\nIn fashion like a lute, had but the groin\nBeen sever'd where it meets the forked part.\nSwoln dropsy, disproportioning the limbs\nWith ill - converted moisture, that the paunch\nSuits not the visage, open'd wide his lips,\nGasping as in the hectic man for drought,\nOne toward the chin, the other upward curl'd.\n\n\"O ye! who in this world of misery,\nWherefore I know not, are exempt from pain,\"\nThus he began, \"attentively regard\nAdamo's woe.[2] When living, full supply\nNe'er lack'd me of what most I coveted;\nOne drop of water now, alas! I crave.\nThe rills, that glitter down the grassy slopes\n\n[2: Adamo of Brescia, at the instigation of Guido, Alessandro, and\ntheir brother Aghiunlfo, lords of Romena, counterfeited the coin of Florence;\nfor which crime he was burnt.]\n\nOf Casentino,[3] making fresh and soft\nThe banks whereby they glide to Arno's stream,\nStand ever in my view; and not in vain;\nFor more the pictured semblance dries me up,\nMuch more than the disease, which makes the flesh\nDesert these shrivel'd cheeks. So from the place,\nWhere I transgress'd, stern justice urging me,\nTakes means to quicken more my laboring sighs.\nThere is Romena, where I falsified\nThe metal with the Baptist's form imprest,\nFor which on earth I left my body burnt.\nBut if I here might see the sorrowing soul\nOf Guido, Alessandro, or their brother,\nFor Branda's limpid spring[4] I would not change\nThe welcome sight. One is e'en now within,\nIf truly the mad spirits tell, that round\nAre wandering. But wherein besteads me that?\nMy limbs are fetter'd. Were I but so light,\nThat I each hundred years might move one inch,\nI had set forth already on this path,\nSeeking him out amidst the shapeless crew,\nAlthough eleven miles it wind, not less\nThan half of one across. They brought me down\nAmong this tribe; induced by them, I stamp'd\nThe florens with three carats of alloy.[5]\n\n[3: Romena, a part of Casentino.]\n\n[4: A fountain at Siena.]\n\n[5: The floren was a coin that ought to have had twenty - four carats\nof pure gold. Villani relates that it was first used at Florence in 1252, an\nera of great prosperity for the republic; before which time their most\nvaluable coinage was of silver.]\n\n\"Who are that abject pair,\" I next inquired,\n\"That closely bounding thee upon thy right\nLie smoking, like a hand in winter steep'd\nIn the chill stream?\" - \"When to this gulf I dropp'd,\"\nHe answer'd, \"here I found them; since that hour\nThey have not turn'd, nor ever shall, I ween,\nTill time hath run his course. One is that dame,\nThe false accuser[6] of the Hebrew youth;\nSinon the other, that false Greek from Troy.\nSharp fever drains the reeky moistness out,\nIn such a cloud upsteam'd.\" When that he heard,\n\n[6: Potiphar's wife.]\n\nOne, gall'd perchance to be so darkly named,\nWith clench'd hand smote him on the braced paunch,\nThat like a drum resounded: but forthwith\nAdamo smote him on the face, the blow\nReturning with his arm, that seem'd as hard.\n\n\"Though my o'er weighty limbs have ta'en from me\nThe power to move,\" said he, \"I have an arm\nAt liberty for such employ.\" To whom\nWas answer'd: \"When thou wentest to the fire,\nThou hadst it not so ready at command;\nThen readier when it coin'd the impostor gold.\"\n\nAnd thus the dropsied: \"Ay, now speak'st thou true:\nBut there thou gavest not such true testimony,\nWhen thou wast question'd of the truth, at Troy.\"\n\n\"If I spake false, thou falsely stamp'dst the coin,\"\nSaid Sinon; \"I am here for but one fault,\nAnd thou for more than any imp beside.\"\n\n\"Remember,\" he replied, \"O perjured one!\nThe horse remember, that did teem with death;\nAnd all the world be witness to thy guilt.\"\n\n\"To thine,\" return'd the Greek, \"witness the thirst\nWhence thy tongue cracks, witness the fluid mound\nRear'd by thy belly up before thine eyes,\nA mass corrupt.\" To whow the coiner thus:\n\"Thy mouth gapes wide as ever to let pass\nIts evil saying. Me if thirst assails,\nYet I am stuft with moisture. Thou art parch'd:\nPains rack thy head: no urging wouldst thou need\nTo make thee lap Narcissus' mirror up.\"\n\nI was all fix'd to listen, when my guide\nAdmonish'd: \"Now beware. A little more,\nAnd I do quarrel with thee.\" I perceived\nHow angrily he spake, and toward him turn'd\nWith shame so poignant, as remember'd yet\nConfounds me. As a man that dreams of harm\nBefallen him, dreaming wishes it a dream,\nAnd that which is, desires as if it were not;\nSuch then was I, who, wanting power to speak,\nWish'd to excuse myself, and all the while\nExcused me, though unweeting that I did.\n\n\"More grievous fault than thine has been, less shame,\"\nMy master cried, \"might expiate. Therefore cast\nAll sorrow from thy soul; and if again\nChance bring thee, where like conference is held,\nThink I am ever at thy side. To hear\nSuch wrangling is a joy for vulgar minds.\"",
    "project_translation": false,
    "license": null,
    "methodology_url": null
  }
}