William Blake

The mass of the crowds and weird wounds had so
   overwhelmed my vision that my eyes lingered
   a while in their weeping state. But the Roman poet
Vergil told me: "What are you ogling at? --
   why should you just let your eyes linger down there
   with the inconsolable maimed shades? You have not
made it to the other pouches of Malebolge;
   think it over, if you plan on enumerating each
   fosse, since the valley runs for some twenty-two miles.
Now the moon is already under the horizon beneath
   us; the time alotted our enterprise is yet brief,
   as another remains to be seen, which you don't perceive."
To him I said, "If you had paid attention
   to the justification over which I was keeping watch,
   you might have already discharged a more lengthy stay."
About the fold went my leader, as I did march
   behind him, in forming a ready response,
   and added I, "Inside that hollow, to which
I am directing my eyes' sight right now, for a
   bit, I think a shade from my family line is
   lamenting the sinful fault which put him so
deep down here." So the master poet spoke: "Don't let
   your thought-process get wiped out regarding that
   sinner up ahead. Pay attention to something else,
while he remains down there; for I saw him
   by the bottom of the bridge, pointing you out
   with quite the threatening gesture, and heard I that
his name is Geri del Bello. You were so totally
   distracted with the man who once held Altaforte,
   that you looked not that way, until he departed."[30
"Oh, noble master of mine, their violent
   demise which still goes unavenged," said I,
   "by anyone who may be accomplice to the shame,
sure makes him low-down around here; that must be why
   he went waltzing about without speaking to me,
   as I reckon: and in this case, he has made me feel
the more merciful toward his being as such." So spoke we
   to the point where the next gorge was seen from the ridge,
   down to the depths, if only there were more light to see.
When we got to the final enclosure of
   The Pits, such that the lay-brothers could be seen
   from our field of view, they besieged me with begging
of diverse kinds, as if from arrows barbed with
   pathos; hence I covered my ears over, with my own
   hands. The pain and suffering were so great, that if
all the summer-time patients of the hospital
   at Val di Chiana, and all the sick invalids
   from Maremma and Sardinia, were ghettoized
together in one single ditch, it would
   have been right here, and the stink which wafted of it,
   like that from gangrenous limbs. We descended
over the final cleft of the greater ridge,
   along the sinister side still; then was
   my eyesight brought back to life, down into the
abyss, where the Almighty's minister,
   unerring justice, does penalize the
   falsifiers whom she cites in her scrolls.
I do not believe th' entire plague-ridden
   populace at Agina may have seen greater
   misery, when the atmosphere was so full of[60
pestilence that the animals, down to the least
   little worm, all fell in death, and even the
   people of the ancient world were restored to power
from the bloodline of ants, just like the poets tell
   the tale for certain: so is it, to see the shades
   languishing across that dark valley in various heaps.
This one lay upon his stomach, that one,
   on the shoulders, as one crawled on all fours
   over the dreary lane. Slowly by steps,
we went without any speaking, watching out
   for the sick and hearing them, the sinners who
   were unable to elevate their personal state.
I saw two shades sitting to prop each other
   up, as pans are juxtaposed to dry them out,
   covered up with scabs from head to toe;
and never did I see a stable boy make
   his master stay in waiting, nor one averse
   to getting some sleep, as the same stinging
took possession of each shade, with clawing all
   over itself in a massive frenzy
   of itching, having no recourse to relief;
and so did they dig their nails into the sores,
   as an edge removing scales from trout,
   or from some other fish of larger fare.
"Hey you, who do grate yourself with fingertips,"
   my guide started with one of the dead, "and since it's your
   mitts making such a scene, do tell whether there is
anyone of Latinate origin who would
   be inside of there, should your nails suffice in
   eternal fashion at this form of labor."[90
"I was of Latin race, as you see from
   both my cheeks here," replied one of the shades,
   weeping; "but who might you be, to make demands of us?"
And the master-poet said, "I'm a soul who is
   climbing down deeper, into the deep with this living man,
   and do I intend to demonstrate th' inferno
for him." Next the co-dependent support was severed,
   & each shade turned to me in trembling with other
   spirits that heard the echo. The epic master
took me in his arms, saying, "Tell them whatever
   you wish." So I began to speak, as Vergil
   looked toward him: "If the recollection of your
person may not fade away in the original
   world of human subjectivities, and rather
   will live to see a good many days yet, tell
me who you were, and what people you are
   from; don't let your indecent obscenity and
   wracking pain deter you from telling me such names."
"I was from Arezzo, & it was Albero of Siena,"
   retorted the shade, "who put me to the fire;
   but this man who caused my death isn't staying
with me down here. It's true, that which I told him,
   in coining a catch phrase: 'I know how to rise
   through the air at will'; and that sinner, with a
vague desire that made little sense, wanted me to prove
   my pseudo-science to them; and only because I made
   like Daedalus in which case, he made me burn so hot
as though I took him for a son. But Minos placed me
   in the very last trench of the ten pouches, for the
   alchemy I practiced in the world -- there's no way[120
to fool him." And I told the Roman poet: "So, was
   there ever a people as vain as the fools of
   Siena? Surely not even the French were nearly this bad!"
Thereupon the other scabby leper who heard
   me, did reply to my saying: "Stricca wasn't so
   bad, who knew how to produce moderate expenses,
and neither was Niccolo, who first discovered
   the costly cult of the clove, in the garden
   where such seed does take root, excepting too
the social club in which Caccia d'Asciano squandered
   his vineyard and the forest land, where dazed
   Abbagliato uttered his common sense.
But since I know who supported you like that against
   Siena, focus your eyesight on me, so that my aspect
   may respond well to you: so will you see, as I am
the ghost of Capocchio, that I counterfeited
   metals through alchemy; and you really should recollect
   how I was made a great ape, if it sounds like
a good idea to you, by mother nature."