"Master," said I, "thy reasonings are to me

So sure, and on my faith take hold so fast, That all the rest like mere dead coals would be. But tell me of the tribe that cometh past,

If thou see any worthy to be known,

For wholly now on these my mind is cast."

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"That one," he answered me, "whose beard is thrown

Down from his cheek upon his shoulders swart,

He when the land of Greece was left so lone

Of males, that scarce the cradles came not short,

Was augur, and with Calchas omens drew

For the first cable cut in Aulis port.
Eurypylus his name was, whereof too

In some part sings my lofty tragedie,

As thou well knowest, knowing it all through.

And that one in the waist so slender, he

Was Michael Scott, who without question went Through all the game of fraudful glamorie.

See Guy Bonatti there, and see Asdent,

Who now by awl and leather would have stayed

Full gladly, but too late he doth repent.

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See caitiff women, that aside have laid

Distaff, and neeld, and spindle, and have ta'en
Their herbs and wax to ply the witch's trade.
But follow now, for with his faggots Cain

Already toward Seville draws nigh the bound
Of the twin hemispheres, and foots the main,*
And yesternight exact the moon was round;
Well mayst thou recollect, for hence thou didst
Receive no scathe within the wood profound."

So spoke he, and proceeded in the midst.

*The Man in the Moon!

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CANTO XXI.

THUS past we, talking matters which to name
In numbers shall my Comedy not cark,

From bridge to bridge, and on the summit came,
When I remained another cleft to mark

Of Evilpits, and other fruitless woes,
And I beheld it marvellously dark.

As in the arsenal of Venice shows

The clammy-boiling pitch, when they careen Their ships unsound, that from the seas repose In winter, and through all the space between,

One man rebuilds his vessel, one completes The ribs of that which many a cruise hath seen, One man at prow, at poop another beats,

And one the mainsail, one the jib renews,

One shapeth oars, another twineth sheets;

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So, not by fire, but by God's art abstruse,

A thick slime here was boiling, which the twin Banks of the moat in every part englues.

I saw it, but I only saw therein

The bubbles which the boiling raised, and all
The surface heaving up, and settling in.
As there I pryed intently, with a call

Of "Look, oh look," my master drew me quite Towards him from where I stood: I therewithal Turned round, as does a man who craves the sight

Of that which it behoveth him to flee, When valour is dislodged by sudden fright, And nought, for looking back, delayeth he

To start; then I beheld a black fiend beat The rock behind us running. Woe is me! How dreadful seemed his countenance to meet, And with his port what savageness he blent, With outspread wings, and lithe upon his feet; His shoulder, which was sharp and eminent,

A sinner loaded with his haunches twain,

And he the ancles in his clutches pent.

"O Evilarms" he cried, "of this domain,

I've one of Santa Zita's elders here;
Down with him, for I'm visiting again
That city which has plenty such like gear.
There all embezzle, by Bonturo's leave;
There money shall make yea for nay appear."
Then plunged him downward, and along the reef
Of adamant he turned, and never hound
Shot off so rapidly at heels of thief.

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The other sank, and came up, turning round;

But all the fiends cried out, who lurked below

That bridge, "Here is no Sacred Countenance found; Here swim you not as in the Serchio;

And therefore if thou wouldst not feel our hooks, Take heed above the slime to make no show."

They stuck him with above a hundred crooks,
And cried, "Here under cover must thou skip,
And purloin, if thou canst, unseen." The cooks
Thus make their underlings with forks to dip

Into the caldron cleanly down their meat,
That floating it may never show its tip.

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