The Inferno

Dante Alighieri

• Verlag: Race Point Publishing
• Jahr: 2015
• ISBN:
  9781627887427
• Thema: Literature
• Thema: Classics

Journey into Dante's nine circles of hell in the epic poem, Inferno.

The Divine Comedy, written in the early fourteenth century by Dante Alighieri, continues to be essential reading for lovers of literature.

Dante's The Inferno is the first part of his masterpiece, The Divine Comedy. In this epic poem, Dante is led by the poet Virgil into the nine circles of Hell--limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, anger, heresy, violence, fraud, and treachery--culminating in a meeting with Satan himself. Along the way, he meets a number of interesting figures.

This edition uses the classic translation by the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882).

Complete and unabridged, this edition featuresa new introduction by John Lotherington. The Knickerbocker Classics bring together the works of classic authors from around the world in stunning gift editions to be collected and enjoyed.

CANTO XXXIII

His mouth uplifted from his grim repast,

That sinner, wiping it upon the hair

Of the same head that he behind had wasted.

Then he began: “Thou wilt that I renew

The desperate grief, which wrings my heart already

5

To think of only, ere I speak of it;

The uppermost on the other set his teeth,

There where the brain is to the nape united.

Inferno XXXII, lines 128–129

But if my words be seed that may bear fruit

Of infamy to the traitor whom I gnaw,

Speaking and weeping shalt thou see together.

I know not who thou art, nor by what mode

10

Thou hast come down here; but a Florentine

Thou seemest to me truly, when I hear thee.

Thou hast to know I was Count Ugolino,

And this one was Ruggieri the Archbishop;

Now I will tell thee why I am such a neighbour.

15

That, by effect of his malicious thoughts,

Trusting in him I was made prisoner,

And after put to death, I need not say;

But ne’ertheless what thou canst not have heard,

That is to say, how cruel was my death,

20

Hear shalt thou, and shalt know if he has wronged me.

A narrow perforation in the mew,

Which bears because of me the title of Famine,

And in which others still must be locked up,

Had shown me through its opening many moons

25

Already, when I dreamed the evil dream

Which of the future rent for me the veil.

This one appeared to me as lord and master,

Hunting the wolf and whelps upon the mountain

For which the Pisans cannot Lucca see.

30

With sleuth-hounds gaunt, and eager, and well trained,

Gualandi with Sismondi and Lanfranchi

He had sent out before him to the front.

After brief course seemed unto me forespent

The father and the sons, and with sharp tushes

35

It seemed to me I saw their flanks ripped open.

When I before the morrow was awake,

Moaning amid their sleep I heard my sons

Who with me were, and asking after bread.

Cruel indeed art thou, if yet thou grieve not,

40

Thinking of what my heart foreboded me,

And weep’st thou not, what art thou wont to weep at?

They were awake now, and the hour drew nigh

At which our food used to be brought to us,

And through his dream was each one apprehensive;

45

And I heard locking up the under door

Of the horrible tower; whereat without a word

I gazed into the faces of my sons.

I wept not, I within so turned to stone;

They wept; and darling little Anselm mine

50

Said: ‘Thou dost gaze so, father, what doth ail thee?’

Still not a tear I shed, nor answer made

All of that day, nor yet the night thereafter,

Until another sun rose on the world.

As now a little glimmer made its way

55

Into the dolorous prison, and I saw

Upon four faces my own very aspect,

Both of my hands in agony I bit;

And, thinking that I did it from desire

Of eating, on a sudden they uprose,

60

And said they: ‘Father, much less pain ’twill give us

If thou do eat of us; thyself didst clothe us

With this poor flesh, and do thou strip it off.’

I calmed me then, not to make them more sad.

That day we all were silent, and the next.

65

Ah! obdurate earth, wherefore didst thou not open?

When we had come ...