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    "slug": "inferno",
    "name": "Inferno"
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      "name": "Divine Comedy",
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  "chapter": {
    "num": 7,
    "slug": "canto-7",
    "title": "Inferno · Canto 7",
    "of": 34,
    "words": 1187,
    "text": "## Inferno Canto 7\n\n\nCanto VII\n\nArgument\n\nIn the present Canto, Dante describes his descent into the fourth circle,\nat the beginning of which he sees Plutus stationed. Here one like doom awaits\nthe prodigal and thenavaricious; which is, to meet in direful conflict,\nrolling great weights against each other with mutual upbraidings. From hence\nVirgil takes occasion to show how vain the goods that are committed into the\ncharge of Fortune; and this moves our author to inquire what being that\nFortune is, of whom he speaks: which question being resolved, they go down\ninto the fifth circle, where they find the wrathful and gloomy tormented in\nthe Stygian lake. Having made a compass round great part of this lake, they\ncome at last to the base of a lofty tower.\n\n\"Ah me! O Satan! Satan!\"[1] loud exclaim'd\nPlutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm:\nAnd the kind sage, whom no event surprised,\nTo comfort me thus spake: \"Let not thy fear\nHarm thee, for power in him, be sure, is none\n\n[1: \"Pape Satan, Pape Satan, aleppe;\" words without meaning.]\n\nTo hinder down this rock thy safe descent.\"\nThen to that swoln lip turning, \"Peace!\" he cried,\n\"Curst wolf! thy fury inward on thyself\nPrey, and consume thee! Through the dark profound,\nNot without cause, he passes. So 'tis will'd\nOn high, there where the great Archangel pour'd\nHeaven's vengeance on the first adulterer proud.\"\n\nAs sails, full spread and bellying with the wind,\nDrop suddenly collapsed, if the mast split;\nSo to the ground down dropp'd the cruel fiend.\n\nThus we, descending to the fourth steep ledge,\nGain'd on the dismal shore, that all the woe\nHems in of all the universe. Ah me!\nAlmighty Justice! in what store thou heap'st\nNew pains, new troubles, as I here beheld.\nWherefore doth fault of ours bring us to this?\n\nE'en as a billow, on Charybdis rising,\nAgainst encounter'd billow dashing breaks;\nSuch is the dance this wretched race must lead,\nWhom more than elsewhere numerous here I found.\nFrom one side and the other, with loud voice,\nBoth roll'd on weights, by main force of their breasts,\nThen smote together, and each one forthwith\nRoll'd them back voluble, turning again;\nExclaiming these, \"Why holdest thou so fast?\"\nThose answering, \"And why castest thou away?\"\nSo, still repeating their despiteful song,\nThey to the opposite point, on either hand,\nTraversed the horrid circle; then arrived,\nBoth turn'd them round, and through the middle space,\nConflicting met again. At sight whereof\nI, stung with grief, thus spake: \"O say, my guide!\nWhat race is this. Were these, whose heads are shorn,\nOn our left hand, all separate to the Church?\"\n\nHe straight replied: \"In their first life, these all\nIn mind were so distorted, that they made,\nAccording to due measure, of their wealth\nNo use. This clearly from their words collect,\nWhich they howl forth, at each extremity\nArriving of the circle, where their crime\nContrary in kind disparts them. To the Church\nWere separate those, that with no hairy cowls\nAre crowned, both Popes and Cardinals, o'er whom\nAvarice dominion absolute maintains.\"\n\nI then: \"'Mid such as these some needs must be,\nWhom I shall recognize, th t with the blot\nOf these foul sins were stain'd.\" He answering thus:\n\"Vain thought conceivest thou. That ignoble life,\nWhich made them vile before, now makes them dark,\nAnd to all knowledge indiscernible.\nFor ever they shall meet in this rude shock:\nThese from the tomb with clenched grasp shall rise,\nThose with close - shaven locks. That ill they gave,\nAnd ill they kept, hath of the beauteous world\nDeprived, and set them at this strife, which needs\nNo labor'd phrase of mine to set it off.\nNow mayst thou see, my son! how brief, how vain,\nThe goods committed into Fortune's hands,\nFor which the human race keep such a coil!\nNot all the gold that is beneath the moon,\nOr ever hath been, of these toil - worn souls\nMight purchase rest for one.\" I thus rejoin'd:\n\"My guide! of these this also would I learn;\nThis Fortune, that thou speak'st of, what it is,\nWhose talons grasp the blessings of the world.\"\n\nHe thus: \"O beings blind! what ignorance\nBesets you! Now my judgment hear and mark.\nHe, whose transcendent wisdom passes all,\nThe heavens creating, gave them ruling powers\nTo guide them; so that each part shines to each,\nTheir light in equal distribution pour'd.\nBy similar appointment he ordain'd,\nOver the world's bright images to rule,\nSuperintendence of a guiding hand\nAnd general minister, which, at due time,\nMay change the empty vantages of life\nFrom race to race, from one to other's blood,\nBeyond prevention of man's wisest care:\nWherefore one nation rises into sway,\nAnother languishes, e'en as her will\nDecrees, from us conceal'd, as in the grass\nThe serpent train. Against her nought avails\nYour utmost wisdom. She with foresight plans,\nJudges, and carries on her reign, as theirs\nThe other powers divine. Her changes know\nNone intermission: by necessity\nShe is made swift, so frequent come who claim\nSuccession in her favors. This is she,\nSo execrated e'en by those whose debt\nTo her is rather praise: they wrongfully\nWith blame requite her, and with evil word;\nBut she is blessed, and for that recks not:\nAmidst the other primal beings glad\nRolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults.\nNow on our way pass we, to heavier woe\nDescending: for each star is falling now,\nThat mounted at our entrance, and forbids\nToo long our tarrying.\" We the circle cross'd\nTo the next steep, arriving at a well,\nThat boiling pours itself down to a foss\nSluiced from its source. Far murkier was the wave\nThan sablest grain: and we in company\nOf the inky waters, journeying by their side,\nEnter'd, though by a different track, beneath.\nInto a lake, the Stygian named, expands\nThe dismal stream, when it hath reach'd the foot\nOf the gray wither'd cliffs. Intent I stood\nTo gaze, and in the marish sunk descried\nA miry tribe, all naked, and with looks\nBetokening rage. They with their hands alone\nStruck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet,\nCutting each other piecemeal with their fangs.\n\nThe good instructor spake: \"Now seest thou, son!\nThe souls of those, whom anger overcame.\nThis too for certain know, that underneath\nThe water dwells a multitude, whose sighs\nInto these bubbles make the surface heave,\nAs thine eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turn.\nFix'd in the slime, they say: 'Sad once were we,\nIn the sweet air made gladsome by the sun,\nCarrying a foul and lazy mist within:\nNow in these murky settlings are we sad.'\nSuch dolorous strain they gurgle in their throats,\nBut word distinct can utter none.\" Our route\nThus compass'd we, a segment widely stretch'd\nBetween the dry embankment, and the core\nOf the loath'd pool, turning meanwhile our eyes\nDownward on those who gulp'd its muddy lees;\nNor stopp'd, till to a tower's low base we came.",
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