Читать книгу The Divine Comedy: Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso (3 Classic Unabridged Translations in one eBook: Cary's + Longfellow's + Norton's Translation + Original Illustrations by Gustave Doré) - Dante Alighieri - Страница 27

THUS we from bridge to bridge, with other talk,

The which my drama cares not to rehearse,

Pass'd on; and to the summit reaching, stood

To view another gap, within the round

Of Malebolge, other bootless pangs.

Marvelous darkness shadow'd o'er the place.

In the Venetians' arsenal as boils

Through wintry months tenacious pitch, to smear

Their unsound vessels; for th' inclement time

Sea-faring men restrains, and in that while

His bark one builds anew, another stops

The ribs of his, that hath made many a voyage;

One hammers at the prow, one at the poop;

This shapeth oars, that other cables twirls,

The mizen one repairs and main-sail rent

So not by force of fire but art divine

Boil'd here a glutinous thick mass, that round

Lim'd all the shore beneath. I that beheld,

But therein nought distinguish'd, save the surge,

Rais'd by the boiling, in one mighty swell

Heave, and by turns subsiding and fall. While there

I fix'd my ken below, "Mark! mark!" my guide

Exclaiming, drew me towards him from the place,

Wherein I stood. I turn'd myself as one,

Impatient to behold that which beheld

He needs must shun, whom sudden fear unmans,

That he his flight delays not for the view.

Behind me I discern'd a devil black,

That running, up advanc'd along the rock.

Ah! what fierce cruelty his look bespake!

In act how bitter did he seem, with wings

Buoyant outstretch'd and feet of nimblest tread!

His shoulder proudly eminent and sharp

Was with a sinner charg'd; by either haunch

He held him, the foot's sinew griping fast.

"Ye of our bridge!" he cried, "keen-talon'd fiends!

Lo! one of Santa Zita's elders! Him

Whelm ye beneath, while I return for more.

That land hath store of such. All men are there,

Except Bonturo, barterers: of 'no'

For lucre there an 'aye' is quickly made."

Him dashing down, o'er the rough rock he turn'd,

Nor ever after thief a mastiff loos'd

Sped with like eager haste. That other sank

And forthwith writing to the surface rose.

But those dark demons, shrouded by the bridge,

Cried "Here the hallow'd visage saves not: here

Is other swimming than in Serchio's wave.

Wherefore if thou desire we rend thee not,

Take heed thou mount not o'er the pitch." This said,

They grappled him with more than hundred hooks,

And shouted: "Cover'd thou must sport thee here;

So, if thou canst, in secret mayst thou filch."