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    "slug": "inferno",
    "name": "Inferno"
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      "slug": "divine-comedy",
      "name": "Divine Comedy",
      "url": "/sources/divine-comedy/"
    }
  ],
  "chapter": {
    "num": 9,
    "slug": "canto-9",
    "title": "Inferno · Canto 9",
    "of": 34,
    "words": 1372,
    "text": "## Inferno Canto 9\n\n\nCanto IX\n\nArgument\n\nAfter some hindrances, and having seen the hellish furies and other\nmonsters, the Poet, by the help of an angel, enters the city of Dis, wherein\nhe discovers that the heretics are punished in tombs burning with intense\nfire; and he, together with Virgil, passes onward between the sepulchres and\nthe walls of the city.\n\nThe hue,[1] which coward dread on my pale cheeks\nImprinted when I saw my guide turn back,\nChased that from his which newly they had worn,\nAnd inwardly restrain'd it. He, as one\nWho listens, stood attentive: for his eye\nNot far could lead him through the sable air,\nAnd the thick - gathering cloud. \"It yet behoves\nWe win this fight;\" thus he began: \"if not,\nSuch aid to us is offer'd - Oh! how long\nMe seems it, ere the promised help arrive.\"\n\n[1: \"The hue,\" Virgil, perceiving that Dante was pale with fear,\nrestrained those outward tokens of displeasure which his own countenance had\nbetrayed.]\n\nI noted, how the sequel of his words\nCloked their beginning; for the last he spake\nAgreed not with the first. But not the less\nMy fear was at his saying; sith I drew\nTo import worse, perchance, than that he held,\nHis mutilated speech. \"Doth ever any\nInto this rueful concave's extreme depth\nDescend, out of the first degree, whose pain\nIs deprivation merely of sweet hope?\"\n\nThus I inquiring. \"Rarely,\" he replied,\n\"It chances, that among us any makes\nThis journey, which I wend. Erewhile, 'tis true,\nOnce came I here beneath, conjured by fell\nErichtho,[2] sorceress, who compell'd the shades\nBack to their bodies. No long space my flesh\nWas naked of me, when within these walls\nShe made me enter, to draw forth a spirit\nFrom out of Judas' circle. Lowest place\nIs that of all, obscurest, and removed\n\n[2: Erichtho, a Thessalian sorceress (Lucan, \"Pharsal.\" 1. vi.), was\nemployed by Sextus, son of Pompey the Great, to conjure up a spirit, who\nshould inform him of the issue of the civil wars between his father and\nCaesar.]\n\nFarthest from Heaven's all - circling orb. The road\nFull well I know: thou therefore rest secure.\nThat lake, the noisome stench exhaling, round\nThe city of grief encompasses, which now\nWe may not enter without rage, \"Yet more\nHe added: but I hold it not in mind,\nFor that mine eye toward the lofty tower\nHad drawn me wholly, to its burning top;\nWhere, in an instant, I beheld uprisen\nAt once three hellish furies stain'd with blood.\nIn limb and motion feminine they seem'd;\nAround them greenest hydras twisting roll'd\nTheir volumes; adders and cerastes crept\nInstead of hair, and their fierce temples bound.\n\nHe, knowing well the miserable hags\nWho tend the queen of endless owe, thus spake:\n\"Mark thou each dire Erynnis. To the left,\nThis is Megaera; on the right hand, she\nWho wails, Alecto; and Tisiphone\nI'th' midst.\" This said, in silence he remain'd.\nTheir breast they each one clawing tore; themselves\nSmote with their palms, and such thrill clamour raised,\nThat to the bard I clung, suspicion - bound.\n\"Hasten Medusa: so to adamant\nHim shall we change;\" all looking down exclaim'd:\n\"E'en when by Theseus' might assail'd, we took\nNo ill revenge.\" \"Turn thyself round and keep\nThy countenance hid; for if the Gorgon dire\nBe shown, and thou shouldst view it, thy return\nUpwards would be forever lost.\" This said,\nHimself, my gentle master, turn'd me round;\nNor trusted he my hands, but with his own\nHe also hid me. Ye of intellect\nSound and entire, mark well the lore[3] conceal'd\n\n[3: The Poet probably intends to call the reader's attention to the\nallegorical and mystic sense of the present Canto, and not, as Venturi\nsupposes, to that of the whole work. Landino supposes this hidden meaning to\nbe that in the case of those vices which proceed from intemperance, reason,\nfigured under the person of Virgil, with the ordinary grace of God, may be a\nsufficient safeguard; but that in the instance of more heinous crimes, such as\nthose we shall hereafter see punished, a special grace, represented by the\nangel, is requisite for our defence.]\n\nUnder close texture of the mystic strain.\n\nAnd now there came o'er the perturbed waves\nLoud - crashing, terrible, a sound that made\nEither shore tremble, as if of a wind\nImpetuous, from conflicting vapors sprung,\nThat 'gainst some forest driving all his might,\nPlucks off the branches, beats them down, and hurls\nAfar; then, onward passing, proudly sweeps\nHis whirlwind rage, while beasts and shepherds fly.\n\nMine eyes he loosed, and spake: \"And now direct\nThy visual nerve along that ancient foam,\nThere, thickest where the smoke ascends.\" As frogs\nBefore their foe the serpent, through the wave\nPly swiftly all, till at the ground each one\nLies on a heap; more than a thousand spirits\nDestroy'd, so saw I fleeing before one\nWho pass'd with unwet feet the Stygian sound.\nHe, from his face removing the gross air,\nOft his left hand forth stretch'd, and seem'd alone\nBy that annoyance wearied. I perceived\nThat he was sent from Heaven; and to my guide\nTurn'd me, who signal made, that I should stand\nQuiet, and bend to him. Ah me! how full\nOf noble anger seem'd he. To the gate\nHe came, and with his wand touch'd it, whereat\nOpen without impediment it flew.\n\n\"Outcasts of heaven! O abject race, scorn'd!\"\nBegan he, on the horrid grunsel standing,\n\"Whence doth this wild excess of insolence\nLodge in you? wherefore kick you 'gainst that will\nNe'er frustrate of its end, and which so oft\nHath laid on you enforcement of your pangs?\nWhat profits at the Fates to butt the horn?\nYour Cerberus,[4] if ye remember, hence\nBears still, peel'd of their hair, his throat and maw.\"\n\n[4: \"Your Cerberus.\" Cerberus is feigned to have been dragged by\nHercules, bound with a threefold chain, of which, says the angel, he still\nbears the marks. Lombardi blames the other interpreters for having supposed\nthat the angel attributes this exploit to Hercules, a fabulous hero, rather\nthan to our Saviour, It would seem as if the good father had forgotten that\nCerberus is himself no less a creature of the imagination than the hero who\nencountered him.]\n\nThis said, he turn'd back o'er the filthy way,\nAnd syllable to us spake none; but wore\nThe semblance of a man by other care\nBeset, and keenly prest, than thought of him\nWho in his presence stands. Then we our steps\nToward that territory moved, secure\nAfter the hallow'd words. We, unopposed,\nThere enter'd; and, my mind eager to learn\nWhat state a fortress like to that might hold,\nI, soon as enter'd, throw mine eye around,\nAnd see, on every part, wide - stretching space,\nReplete with bitter pain and torment ill.\n\nAs where Rhone stagnates on the plains of Arles,[5]\nOr as at Pola,[6] near Quarnaro's gulf,\nThat closes Italy and laves her bounds,\nThe place is all thick spread with sepulchres;\nSo was it here, save what in horror here\nExcell'd: for 'midst the graves were scattered flames,\nWherewith intensely all throughout they burn'd,\nThat iron for no craft there hotter needs.\n\n[5: \"The plains of Arles.\" In Provence. These sepulchres are\nmentioned in the Life of Charlemagne, which has been attributed to Archbishop\nTurpin, cap. 28, and 30, and by Fazio degli Uberti, Dittamondo, L. iv. cap.\nxxi.]\n\n[6: \"At Pola.\" A city of Istria, situated near the gulf of Quarnaro,\nin the Adriatic Sea.]\n\nTheir lids all hung suspended; and beneath,\nFrom them forth issued lamentable moans,\nSuch as the sad and tortured well might raise.\n\nI thus: \"Master! say who are these, interr'd\nWithin these vaults, of whom distinct we hear\nThe dolorous sighs.\" He answer thus return'd:\n\"The arch - heretics are here, accompanied\nBy every sect their followers; and much more\nThan thou believest, the tombs are freighted: like\nWith like is buried; and the monuments\nAre different in degrees of heat.\" This said,\nHe to the right hand turning, on we pass'd\nBetwixt the afflicted and the ramparts high.",
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