Dante's Divine Comedy 13

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Inferno II ---3

the ninth circle ---69

the lowest strata: Cocytus ---97

a treasury of images, the divine comedy ---149

Purgatorio ---153

setting off to purgatory ---154

the first elevation ---172

the second elevation ---177

the night before purgatory ---195

the gates of purgatory ---212

the first circle of purgatory ---224

the second circle of purgatory ---240

the third circle, the valley of wrath ---256

the fourth circle, those who run ---275

the fifth circle, those of lamentation ---282

the sixth circle, the fruit of temptation ---291

the seventh circle, the sin cleansing fires ---298

the garden of pleasure ---319

paradiso ---339

Revelations' Illusions ---346

setting off to heaven ---353

the first heaven, the moon ---362

the second heaven, Mercury ---368

the third heaven, Venus ---370

the fourth heaven, the sun ---372

the fifth heaven, Mars ---384

the sixth heaven, Jupiter ---392

the seventh heaven, Saturn ---396

to the center of light ---402
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Inferno II

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In the seventh Bolgia reside the thieves!

Those who the hard-earned wealth of others steal,
And others force into wretched despair.

Such a crime as theirs cannot be pardoned!

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For not wealth alone is stolen by them;
Hope, and mirth, and comfort -- these too, they steal.

They destroy what is above-provided
By providence supreme -- such are these thieves!

Ever tormented by these hellish snakes,
They languish here in their punishment due!

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Those wretches bitten immolated are,
Burned up until naught but ashes remain.

But those ashes then, with little delay,

Will form once more into their human shape.

Without a pause, they once more beset are
By those ravenous and ne'er-ceasing snakes.

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waaa

uwa

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uwaa

Will this man, too, immolate? How tragic...

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aaah

guee

what!?

Into a man, the snake has mutated,
And into a snake, the man has likewise!

haaaa----

haaa--
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You, mortal, who to look upon this dares...

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You as well shall take the form of a snake!

hi~hi hi hi hi!!

hi~ hi hihi

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what was that!?

what...... what did I look upon...!?

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the man... the snake...

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Though not so different, I suppose they are...

The man has the same poison as the snake.

Don't they both with wicked tongues bite their prey,
And ensnare this world in their cold embrace?

Careful, Dante!

Look for firm footing upon this steep path,
Lest you should fall into the vicious depths.

ah!

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The great flame, at the bottom of this trench,

Is the eighth Bolgia...

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All those who burn within these hellish flames
Are those who loved deception and deceit.

And though they burn, they shall not burn away...

They cannot escape from pain eternal,

But stumble about in endless anguish!

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This is the Hell of those who twisted hearts!

'Tis the hell of the evil Counselors!

For them, even a war is just a game,
And they play such a game with dishonor!

Hm? Who is within that fire cleft in two?

Condemned to that flame are indeed two men...

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Within there are tormented Ulysses
And Diomedes, now together thus.

Though both are praised for their prowess in war,
Their methods were underhandedly vile.

These two who invited the wrath of God
Are thus united by His divine wrath!

Oh!? The Trojan horse, made by Ulysses...

Ulysses, admired as a hero,
Is also one who would ruin our world...

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After ten long years of unfruitful siege,
The Greek army, which by Ulysses led,
And by divine Diomedes guided,
Then feigned surrender and left a false gift:
A wooden horse, filled with soldiers hidden.
Drunk on victory, the Trojan army
Took the horse within their walls. At night-time,
The Greeks within surged out, and preyed upon
The drunken Trojan soldiers, caught off-guard.
The city fell, ending the Trojan War.

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And there within their flame do they lament
The ambush of the horse, which made the door*
Whence issued forth the Romans' gentle seed.

* The razing of Troy, which caused Aeneas (who eventually founded Rome, according to Virgil) to leave Troy and hunt for a new place to start a city.

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GYAaA

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th...... this is...

The ninth Bolgia: the sowers of discord!

For those who tricked their nations into war!

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How terrible a sight to look upon...

See how that demon's blade rends their bodies?

They split their clans and families with lies,
But now 'tis their own bodies which are split!

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For what reason do they not cease to run?

Where is it that they could e'er hope to reach?

Unable to endure the pain, they run.

Were they yet living, from the shock alone
Would their bodies have already succumbed.

Still, they run.

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They within the confines of this valley
Have nowhere to which they can strive to go.

Their bodies are cut, but continue on:
When they have gone around the doleful road,

Before any of their wounds are closed again...

Thus cruelly, they feel the falchion's edge...

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He who instigated war by his mouth...

He who fostered evil things in his mind...

She who beguiled the heart by her body...

The demon's sword eviscerates them all!

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And above all, the heaviest crime is theirs...

They who led their righteous rulers astray
With sedition of heretical thoughts!

For what kind of sin are you thus condemned?

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Look! Oh me!

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My head I hold as if 'tis a lantern!

And this lantern my path illuminates...
This head for my body projects the way.

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You should know that Bertran de Born am I,
And of one body originally.

As one I breathed and walked the castle's halls;

Now... I am two in one, and one in two;

I who both laughed and cried with one body
Have now a thing of separate parts become:

No longer are my shoulders for my head.

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Now hear: know that Bertram de Born am I,

Who himself was a poet, long ago...

Bertran de Born, a man of influence....
That was who I was; my name once renowned.

I made the father and the son rebellious...

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Bertran de Born lived in the twelfth century,
As the Lord of Autafort, in England.
A troubadour for King Henry he was,
But with prince Henry the Young he sided
In fomenting ill-fated rebellion.
The Young King died, but Bertran was captured;
A monk he became, and died in due time.

Though their bonds they shared strong with their country,

My wicked and evil words did cut them.

Because I parted persons so united,
Parted do I now bear my brain, alas!

Observe in me my retribution due!

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Maestro, why are so many punished thus?
Is the world above truly so sinful?

I cannot bear to look upon all them,
The blood-stained dead, tormented in that trench...

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It... is too much, too much for me to bear...

Do not concern yourself over their plight.

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For all this have they themselves invited!

Though it can't be helped if you pity them.

But... within there was a man whom I know!

And... is a relative, of my blood...

To meet him, his cavities split open,
Would be far too heart-breaking to endure.

Worry not.

He is there a man you once knew, no more.

Think no more of it. - Think no more of him!
You only saw him, nothing more than that.

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Oh, my heavenly angel, Beatrice...

Why must I see these horrid punishments?

Though I'll to posterity convey them,
Are they truly fit for mankind to know?

Soon my spirit shall be crushed and ruined...

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This is the tenth and final Bolgia!

The Eighth Circle, the most crowded, ends here.

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aaahhh

uaaahh

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It is the hell of the falsifiers,

Those who forged money to deceive others.

The crime of those who others trick most foul
Is grave indeed, and deserves such repose...

Those here are cursed to forever decay;

Their infested bodies rot and grow mold...

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They, tormented by incessant itching--

In agony, at their own selves they tear!

Their eyes, grown moldy, they try to gouge out...

And their flesh, maggot-eaten, they tear off...

uguh

But however much they may try to scratch,
To them no succor shall e'er come of it.

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This is a hell of eternal anguish:

They rot, regenerate, and rot again.

Those two, who are here not for other sins,
Forged the currency of Guido*, and too
Falsified the coins of Alessandro*.

* The two Counts of Guidi, an area in Italy.

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Once, they were friends in devious alchemy,

But now fallen to hell for their deceit,
They will fight each other incessantly.

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That is the ancient ghost from times long past
Of the nefarious Myrrha, who became
Beyond all rightful love her father's lover
By counterfeiting of another's form.

That pitiful shade weeps here, her body
Covered in scabs, per this place's nature.

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Maestro... It troubles me, passing through here...

Have these people truly erred so greatly?
Surely there are some who sinned only once!

People are careless. If their lives are harsh,
They are surely not unlikely to sin.

Our lives... are tests, given to us from God!

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Dante!

You must tell the world what you see here!

Of this afterlife, man must know its truth!
Those with body taxed by the world above
Must know the anguish of this world below!

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They will live, knowing of a world after,
Their lives before better and less sinful.

If they know their lives to be divine tests,
Perhaps they will then change their wicked ways...

Dante! For this reason, you must go on!

And you must tell what you see to all men!

Dante, through your most elegant poetry,

You shall tell them with all the power of words!

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Was I chosen for that very reason!?

How great a role for my poetry to play...

Oooh! Beatrice!!

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Oh, my angel! You ask too much of me!

I know not whether I have the power
To have my words remembered and passed down...

But even should it require all my life,
I shall complete this task you ask of me!

If I can lessen the number who fall
To hell, even if just by one person...
I must complete this task you ask of me!

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at last, Dante

this is......?

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This dreadful fog rises from the bottom?

It is not of a typical fog's sort:

Many tiny beads of ice comprise it!

The fog is a mist of ice particles...

'Tis the spirit congealed of those within!

For it comes from the ninth, deepest Circle...
Nearest to the lowest stratum, Cocytus!