第二十四篇在一年的年初，那时太阳在宝瓶宫发散他温和的春光，夜和昼将要逐渐地相等了；有一天的早晨地上盖着一层厚霜，和他的白姊妹一模一样，不过寿命只是短促些罢了；那时有一个可怜的牧人，家里已经断了草料，他只好早早起身，哪知开门一望，田野羊白茫茫一片，因此他长叹一声，又回到屋里，踱来踱去，想不出法子；稍后，他又向外面一望，他的希望有了，在顷刻之间，世界已经变了样；于是他拿起牧鞭，把他的羔羊赶出去寻觅食物了；我的心境也是如此，当我看见我的老师脸上有不快之色，我也随这难过；但是，不过转瞬之间，马上药到病除了。
我们到了断桥旁边，我的引路人用和悦的态度对着我，这是我以前在山脚下面曾经看见过的。他把残岩断石查看一下，心里拿定了主意，才张开手臂来拉我。他一方面行动，一方面思考，小心翼翼地把我拉上一块大石头，他的目光又投射在第二块石头上面了，他对我说：“爬上这一块，但是要先试试他是否撑得住你。”
这一条路，那些戴铅帽、穿铅衣的是走不过去的，因为我的老师身体虽然轻，我虽然强有力，但是我们在乱石之中也是行动艰难。马勒勃尔介的地势是愈向中心愈低，所以每条沟的堤岸都是一边高一边低；我们现在正在爬着的堤岸虽然不高，但是我感到非常吃力，至于他觉得怎样，我却不知道。最后，我们爬上了最后一块断石。那时我的气几乎要断了；我不能再走了，我只好坐下来。
我的老师说：“你现在应当远离懒惰，因为一个人坐在绒毯之上，困在绸被之中，决定不会有成就的；庸庸碌碌度一生，如同空中烟，水面泡，他在世上的痕迹顷刻就消失了。所以，你要站起来，用你的意志，克服你的气喘；如果精神不跟着肉体堕落，那末他可以战胜一切艰难险阻。你要爬的坡还长呢，就是走完此地也不算完结；如果你听懂了我的话，那末快些行动吧，对于你是有益处的。”
于是我站了起来，表示出了我勇敢顽强的气概，我说：“走吧！我现在有力量了，有信心了。”我们走上岩石，比以前的更加崎岖，狭窄，陡峭，难于行走。我一边走一边说话，用以掩饰我的胆怯；那时我听见第七条沟里传出一种声音，断断续续，不成语句。我虽然已经走上了桥，但是我听不懂他的意思，我只觉得说话的好像正在发怒呢。我低下头去看，但是活人的眼光却抵达不到黑暗的底部；因此我说：“老师．我们下了这座桥，到那边堤岸上去吧；因为在此地听也听不懂，看又看不见。”他答道：“我没有别的回答，我只有允许；合理的要求应当跟随着不言而喻的行动。”
我们从桥顶走下，来到第八条堤岸，于是那沟里的景象呈现在我面前了：我看见里面一大群的蛇，形状奇特无比，形形色色，就是我现在回想起来，我的血液也要凝固。
就是在利比亚大沙漠之地，那里各种的毒蛇，也不如此地的众多和可怕；就是埃塞俄比亚和红海岸上的蛇，也不能和此地相比。在这些丑陋残酷的爬虫之中，一群惊惶裸体的灵魂乱窜着。既没有藏身的洞，也找不到隐身的石。他们的手被蛇缠住背在背后；蛇的头穿过他们的腰部，再缠绕在他们的胸前。
离我很近的堤岸上，一条蛇突然跳起来，咬住一个罪人的颈部。比画一圈一竖用的时间都要少的一刹那，那个罪人已经着了火，焚烧成灰；灰落地上，集积起来，他又立即恢复了原形。许多大哲人都说看过菲尼克斯的奇迹，说他活到近五百岁的时候，会死了复生；他在生时不吃草，不吃谷，以香料为食品；他死在松香没药的堆上，这里罪人的变化有点像他。
那个复了原形的罪人站立在我们前面，好像一个人忽然被魔鬼摔倒在地或是被别的什么绊倒，醒后立了起来向四周一看。方才想起所受的痛苦，不觉惨惨地叹息了一番。上帝的权威呀！这是多么严厉的报复呀！那时我的引路人问他是谁；他回答道：“在不久之前，我从托斯卡那来到这个可怕的食管里面。我过的生活不是人的生活，是走兽的，我如同一条骡子。我的名字叫做万尼·符虱。一只野兽；皮斯托亚是我适当的窠。”我对引路人说：”叫他说话不要躲避，问他犯了什么罪才逐放到这里，因为我曾经看见他是个强暴而凶狠的人。”那个罪人听了我的话，不再躲蔽，他把目光和注意力转向我，脸上布满羞耻之色，于是他说：“我的罪恶比你所知道的还要大的多。你要求我说，我不应该拒绝。我之所以堕入这条深沟里，是因为我偷了教堂里的东西；我又把这桩罪恶推到另一个人身上。但是你不要看着我开心，如果你有走出这个幽暗之地的时候，那末请你听一听我的预言：先是皮斯托亚驱逐黑党出境，后来佛罗伦萨革新国家民和法律。战神从玛格拉山谷掀起了风暴，狂风暴雨荡击在皮切诺的田野，那里霹雳一声，消灭了白党。我说了这些话，无非让你听了伤心。”
Tempers his tresses in Aquarius' urn,
And now towards equal day the nights recede,
When as the rime upon the earth puts on
Her dazzling sister's image, but not long
Her milder sway endures, then riseth up
The village hind, whom fails his wintry store,
And looking out beholds the plain around
All whiten'd, whence impatiently he smites
His thighs, and to his hut returning in,
There paces to and fro, wailing his lot,
As a discomfited and helpless man;
Then comes he forth again, and feels new hope
Spring in his bosom, finding e'en thus soon
The world hath chang'd its count'nance, grasps his crook,
And forth to pasture drives his little flock:
So me my guide dishearten'd when I saw
His troubled forehead, and so speedily
That ill was cur'd; for at the fallen bridge
Arriving, towards me with a look as sweet,
He turn'd him back, as that I first beheld
At the steep mountain's foot. Regarding well
The ruin, and some counsel first maintain'd
With his own thought, he open'd wide his arm
And took me up. As one, who, while he works,
Computes his labour's issue, that he seems
Still to foresee the' effect, so lifting me
Up to the summit of one peak, he fix'd
His eye upon another. "Grapple that,"
Said he, "but first make proof, if it be such
As will sustain thee." For one capp'd with lead
This were no journey. Scarcely he, though light,
And I, though onward push'd from crag to crag,
Could mount. And if the precinct of this coast
Were not less ample than the last, for him
I know not, but my strength had surely fail'd.
But Malebolge all toward the mouth
Inclining of the nethermost abyss,
The site of every valley hence requires,
That one side upward slope, the other fall.
At length the point of our descent we reach'd
From the last flag: soon as to that arriv'd,
So was the breath exhausted from my lungs,
I could no further, but did seat me there.
"Now needs thy best of man;" so spake my guide:
"For not on downy plumes, nor under shade
Of canopy reposing, fame is won,
Without which whosoe'er consumes his days
Leaveth such vestige of himself on earth,
As smoke in air or foam upon the wave.
Thou therefore rise: vanish thy weariness
By the mind's effort, in each struggle form'd
To vanquish, if she suffer not the weight
Of her corporeal frame to crush her down.
A longer ladder yet remains to scale.
From these to have escap'd sufficeth not.
If well thou note me, profit by my words."
I straightway rose, and show'd myself less spent
Than I in truth did feel me. "On," I cried,
"For I am stout and fearless." Up the rock
Our way we held, more rugged than before,
Narrower and steeper far to climb. From talk
I ceas'd not, as we journey'd, so to seem
Least faint; whereat a voice from the other foss
Did issue forth, for utt'rance suited ill.
Though on the arch that crosses there I stood,
What were the words I knew not, but who spake
Seem'd mov'd in anger. Down I stoop'd to look,
But my quick eye might reach not to the depth
For shrouding darkness; wherefore thus I spake:
"To the next circle, Teacher, bend thy steps,
And from the wall dismount we; for as hence
I hear and understand not, so I see
Beneath, and naught discern."—"I answer not,"
Said he, "but by the deed. To fair request
Silent performance maketh best return."
We from the bridge's head descended, where
To the eighth mound it joins, and then the chasm
Opening to view, I saw a crowd within
Of serpents terrible, so strange of shape
And hideous, that remembrance in my veins
Yet shrinks the vital current. Of her sands
Let Lybia vaunt no more: if Jaculus,
Pareas and Chelyder be her brood,
Cenchris and Amphisboena, plagues so dire
Or in such numbers swarming ne'er she shew'd,
Not with all Ethiopia, and whate'er
Above the Erythraean sea is spawn'd.
Amid this dread exuberance of woe
Ran naked spirits wing'd with horrid fear,
Nor hope had they of crevice where to hide,
Or heliotrope to charm them out of view.
With serpents were their hands behind them bound,
Which through their reins infix'd the tail and head
Twisted in folds before. And lo! on one
Near to our side, darted an adder up,
And, where the neck is on the shoulders tied,
Transpierc'd him. Far more quickly than e'er pen
Wrote O or I, he kindled, burn'd, and chang'd
To ashes, all pour'd out upon the earth.
When there dissolv'd he lay, the dust again
Uproll'd spontaneous, and the self-same form
Instant resumed. So mighty sages tell,
The' Arabian Phoenix, when five hundred years
Have well nigh circled, dies, and springs forthwith
Renascent. Blade nor herb throughout his life
He tastes, but tears of frankincense alone
And odorous amomum: swaths of nard
And myrrh his funeral shroud. As one that falls,
He knows not how, by force demoniac dragg'd
To earth, or through obstruction fettering up
In chains invisible the powers of man,
Who, risen from his trance, gazeth around,
Bewilder'd with the monstrous agony
He hath endur'd, and wildly staring sighs;
So stood aghast the sinner when he rose.
Oh! how severe God's judgment, that deals out
Such blows in stormy vengeance! Who he was
My teacher next inquir'd, and thus in few
He answer'd: "Vanni Fucci am I call'd,
Not long since rained down from Tuscany
To this dire gullet. Me the beastial life
And not the human pleas'd, mule that I was,
Who in Pistoia found my worthy den."
I then to Virgil: "Bid him stir not hence,
And ask what crime did thrust him hither: once
A man I knew him choleric and bloody."
The sinner heard and feign'd not, but towards me
His mind directing and his face, wherein
Was dismal shame depictur'd, thus he spake:
"It grieves me more to have been caught by thee
In this sad plight, which thou beholdest, than
When I was taken from the other life.
I have no power permitted to deny
What thou inquirest." I am doom'd thus low
To dwell, for that the sacristy by me
Was rifled of its goodly ornaments,
And with the guilt another falsely charged.
But that thou mayst not joy to see me thus,
So as thou e'er shalt 'scape this darksome realm
Open thine ears and hear what I forebode.
Reft of the Neri first Pistoia pines,
Then Florence changeth citizens and laws.
From Valdimagra, drawn by wrathful Mars,
A vapour rises, wrapt in turbid mists,
And sharp and eager driveth on the storm
With arrowy hurtling o'er Piceno's field,
Whence suddenly the cloud shall burst, and strike
Each helpless Bianco prostrate to the ground.
This have I told, that grief may rend thy heart."