WHO, e'en in words unfetter'd, might at full
　　Tell of the wounds and blood that now I saw,
　　Though he repeated oft the tale? No tongue
　　So vast a theme could equal, speech and thought
　　Both impotent alike. If in one band
　　Collected, stood the people all, who e'er
　　Pour'd on Apulia's happy soil their blood,
　　Slain by the Trojans, and in that long war
　　When of the rings the measur'd booty made
　　A pile so high, as Rome's historian writes
　　Who errs not, with the multitude, that felt
　　The grinding force of Guiscard's Norman steel,
　　And those the rest, whose bones are gather'd yet
　　At Ceperano, there where treachery
　　Branded th' Apulian name, or where beyond
　　Thy walls, O Tagliacozzo, without arms
　　The old Alardo conquer'd; and his limbs
　　One were to show transpierc'd, another his
　　Clean lopt away; a spectacle like this
　　Were but a thing of nought, to the' hideous sight
　　Of the ninth chasm. A rundlet, that hath lost
　　Its middle or side stave, gapes not so wide,
　　As one I mark'd, torn from the chin throughout
　　Down to the hinder passage: 'twixt the legs
　　Dangling his entrails hung, the midriff lay
　　Open to view, and wretched ventricle,
　　That turns th' englutted aliment to dross.
　　
　　Whilst eagerly I fix on him my gaze,
　　He ey'd me, with his hands laid his breast bare,
　　And cried; "Now mark how I do rip me! lo!
　　
　　
　　"How is Mohammed mangled! before me
　　Walks Ali weeping, from the chin his face
　　Cleft to the forelock; and the others all
　　Whom here thou seest, while they liv'd, did sow
　　Scandal and schism, and therefore thus are rent.
　　A fiend is here behind, who with his sword
　　Hacks us thus cruelly, slivering again
　　Each of this ream, when we have compast round
　　The dismal way, for first our gashes close
　　Ere we repass before him. But say who
　　Art thou, that standest musing on the rock,
　　Haply so lingering to delay the pain
　　Sentenc'd upon thy crimes?"—"Him death not yet,"
　　My guide rejoin'd, "hath overta'en, nor sin
　　Conducts to torment; but, that he may make
　　Full trial of your state, I who am dead
　　Must through the depths of hell, from orb to orb,
　　Conduct him. Trust my words, for they are true."
　　
　　More than a hundred spirits, when that they heard,
　　Stood in the foss to mark me, through amazed,
　　Forgetful of their pangs. "Thou, who perchance
　　Shalt shortly view the sun, this warning thou
　　Bear to Dolcino: bid him, if he wish not
　　Here soon to follow me, that with good store
　　Of food he arm him, lest impris'ning snows
　　Yield him a victim to Novara's power,
　　No easy conquest else." With foot uprais'd
　　For stepping, spake Mohammed, on the ground
　　Then fix'd it to depart. Another shade,
　　Pierc'd in the throat, his nostrils mutilate
　　E'en from beneath the eyebrows, and one ear
　　Lopt off, who with the rest through wonder stood
　　Gazing, before the rest advanc'd, and bar'd
　　His wind-pipe, that without was all o'ersmear'd
　　With crimson stain. "O thou!" said 'he, "whom sin
　　Condemns not, and whom erst (unless too near
　　Resemblance do deceive me) I aloft
　　Have seen on Latian ground, call thou to mind
　　Piero of Medicina, if again
　　Returning, thou behold'st the pleasant land
　　That from Vercelli slopes to Mercabo;
　　
　　
　　"And there instruct the twain, whom Fano boasts
　　Her worthiest sons, Guido and Angelo,
　　That if 't is giv'n us here to scan aright
　　The future, they out of life's tenement
　　Shall be cast forth, and whelm'd under the waves
　　Near to Cattolica, through perfidy
　　Of a fell tyrant. 'Twixt the Cyprian isle
　　And Balearic, ne'er hath Neptune seen
　　An injury so foul, by pirates done
　　Or Argive crew of old. That one-ey'd traitor
　　(Whose realm there is a spirit here were fain
　　His eye had still lack'd sight of) them shall bring
　　To conf'rence with him, then so shape his end,
　　That they shall need not 'gainst Focara's wind
　　Offer up vow nor pray'r." I answering thus:
　　
　　"Declare, as thou dost wish that I above
　　May carry tidings of thee, who is he,
　　In whom that sight doth wake such sad remembrance?"
　　
　　Forthwith he laid his hand on the cheek-bone
　　Of one, his fellow-spirit, and his jaws
　　Expanding, cried: "Lo! this is he I wot of;
　　He speaks not for himself: the outcast this
　　Who overwhelm'd the doubt in Caesar's mind,
　　Affirming that delay to men prepar'd
　　Was ever harmful. "Oh how terrified
　　Methought was Curio, from whose throat was cut
　　The tongue, which spake that hardy word. Then one
　　Maim'd of each hand, uplifted in the gloom
　　The bleeding stumps, that they with gory spots
　　Sullied his face, and cried: 'Remember thee
　　Of Mosca, too, I who, alas! exclaim'd,
　　"The deed once done there is an end," that prov'd
　　A seed of sorrow to the Tuscan race."
　　
　　
　　I added: "Ay, and death to thine own tribe."
　　
　　Whence heaping woe on woe he hurried off,
　　As one grief stung to madness. But I there
　　Still linger'd to behold the troop, and saw
　　Things, such as I may fear without more proof
　　To tell of, but that conscience makes me firm,
　　The boon companion, who her strong breast-plate
　　Buckles on him, that feels no guilt within
　　And bids him on and fear not. Without doubt
　　I saw, and yet it seems to pass before me,
　　A headless trunk, that even as the rest
　　Of the sad flock pac'd onward. By the hair
　　It bore the sever'd member, lantern-wise
　　Pendent in hand, which look'd at us and said,
　　"Woe's me!" The spirit lighted thus himself,
　　And two there were in one, and one in two.
　　How that may be he knows who ordereth so.
　　
　　When at the bridge's foot direct he stood,
　　His arm aloft he rear'd, thrusting the head
　　Full in our view, that nearer we might hear
　　The words, which thus it utter'd: "Now behold
　　This grievous torment, thou, who breathing go'st
　　To spy the dead; behold if any else
　　Be terrible as this. And that on earth
　　Thou mayst bear tidings of me, know that I
　　Am Bertrand, he of Born, who gave King John
　　The counsel mischievous. Father and son
　　I set at mutual war. For Absalom
　　And David more did not Ahitophel,
　　Spurring them on maliciously to strife.
　　For parting those so closely knit, my brain
　　Parted, alas! I carry from its source,
　　That in this trunk inhabits. Thus the law
　　Of retribution fiercely works in me."