CANTO XIV.

ARGUMENT.

DIALOGUE between Guido del Duca of Brettinora, and Rinieri da Calboli of Romagna. The latter inveighs against the vice and degeneracy of all who live in the vale of Arno. Voices are heard recording instances of envy.

"WHO is the man that winds around our hill
Ere death has set his soul at liberty-
Opening his eyes and closing them at will?"
"I know him not: but know he's not alone ;-
Ask who he is thyself, for thou art nigh;
And move him to discourse with gentle tone."
Bent tow'rds each other, held such colloquy

Concerning me, two spirits on the right;

Then upward raised their looks to speak to me:
"O soul," one said, "that, in thy mortal clay
Enveloped still, dost take thy heavenward flight-
In charity console us; and, O say,

1

7

Whence comest thou, and what thy name; -for we 13

So greatly marvel at this signal grace,

As at some strange unheard of prodigy.” And I: "Through Tuscany a streamlet flows

From Falterona's height, which runs its race

Some forty leagues before it finds repose ;From its vicinity I drag this frame:

To tell thee who I am would be in vain,

So little yet on earth resounds my name.” "Sure, if my intellect embody well

Thy purposed meaning," (he who first began Then answer'd me) "thou wouldst of Arno tell." "But why did he conceal," the other said,

"That river's title; as a man forsooth

19

25

Abstains from uttering aught of import dread?" The shade who thus was questioned, made reply: "The cause I know not; but I know in truth,— Full well that valley's name deserves to die : For from its source, (there where so frequent teems 31 The lofty range, whence is Pelorus riven,

That but few places so abound in streams,)
E'en to the spot where it restores again

The vapours that the ocean lends to heaven,
(Whence rivers their renew'd supplies obtain)

From virtue, all, as from a serpent fly;

Whether through influence of a noxious clime,
Or through ill habit's strong necessity:
Whence are the dwellers in that wretched vale

So changed from what they were in olden time, 'Twould seem they batten'd within Circe's pale. 'Mid filthy swine, deserving more to feed

On acorns than such food as man prepares,

37

43

This brook at first his abject course doth lead: Then lower down, 'mong curs condemn'd to stray, Grinning with spite, were power of mischief their's, From them he turns his scornful snout away. This foss, most hapless, most accurst-the more Its waters fall, with fuller current running, Of dogs, becoming wolves, finds greater store. Descending onward then in deeper streams, It finds the foxes, so replete with cunning, They fear not to be baffled in their schemes. Yet will I speak, although another hear,

Who well may let into his memory sink What a true spirit doth to me declare.Already doth thy Grandson meet my sight:A hunter of those wolves upon the brink Of the fell stream, he scatters all in flight.

49

55

Their flesh he bartereth while yet alive,

Then slays them like an aged ox:-as these
Of life, himself of fame doth he deprive.
Blood-stain'd he issues from the mournful wood,

And leaves it such, that in ten centuries

61

Its pristine vigour may not be renew'd." As, at the announcement of impending woe,

67

The face of him who listens is perplex'd,

In wonder whence will come the threaten'd blow;
So the other soul, who stood in act to hear,

I saw in countenance perturb'd and vex'd,
Soon as these words had fall'n upon

his ear.

The speech of one, the other's troubled air

Fill'd me with eagerness their names to know;
And I the inquiry made with earnest prayer.
At which the soul that first accosted me,

Resumed: "What I in vain ask'd thee to show,
That thou desirest I should tell to thee.
But since God wills to manifest so bright

nay;

His grace in thee, I will not say thee Guido del Duca know then am I hight. My blood was so consumed by envy's flame, That if I but beheld another gay,

A livid hue o'er all my features came :

K

73

79

Such

crop

I gather from the seed I strew'd.

O race of man! your hopes why fix ye

there,

Where none may be partakers of your good? This is Rinier, the honor and the pride

Of the great house of Calboli, whose heir No image of his valour hath supplied. Nor his the only blood betwixt the Po,

The Rhine, the mountain, and the rolling main,
Reft of the good which truth and taste bestow.
For all the land within this boundary

Is fill'd with stocks so poisonous, that in vain
Might man long time the force of culture try.
Where is Manardi now, and where the good
Licio and Traversaro,-Guido great?
Oh, how degenerate is Romagna's blood,
When in Bologna doth a Fabbro shoot!

A Bernardin rule o'er Faenza's state,
A generous offset from a lowly root!
Wonder not, Tuscan, at my grieving thus,
When Ugolino to my mind I call,

And Guido, wont to lead his life with us,—
Frederick Tegnoso and his worthy race,

The Traversari, Anastagi (all

Now disinherited of ancient grace,)-

85

91

97

103