Poems descriptive, dramatic, legendary and contemplative

The following is a new version of the fifth canto of Dante's “Inferno,” which contains the famous episode of Francesca da Rimini, in which she narrates the manner and the misfortunes of her love. She was the daughter of the Lord of Ravenna, and was married to Gianciotto, the eldest son of the tyrant of Rimini. Unhappily, her affections did not go with her duties. She did not love her husband, but bestowed her heart upon Paoli, a younger son of the house of Malatesta; and still more unhappily, forgot her vows in her passion. Her husband surprised and slew the guilty pair, who were buried together in the same grave. These parties are discovered by Dante, as he passes under the guidance of Virgil, whom he denominates “his master,” into the “second circle,” which first opens the view of the infernal regions and the terrible sufferings of the inmates. Here Minos sits, at the threshold, and determines, at a glance, the particular doom of the guilty spirits. Those who occupy this first circle are such as have fallen victims to their carnal appetites. Here they are tossed incessantly to and fro, in a region of “brown horror,” by fierce and capricious winds, the likeness of their own passions, to which they can offer no resistance. Here, as examples of such as occupy this circle, they discern first the famous Queen of Babylon, Semiramis. In this “band” or circle, are Dido, Cleopatra, Helena, Achilles and others, a vast and well-remembered multitude. Two of these guilty victims, in particular, compel the attention of Dante, as they are borne forward, seeming particularly light upon the tempestuous winds. These are Francesca, and Paoli, her lover. He summons them, at the instance of Virgil; and the sympathy which he shows them prevails upon Francesca to relate their story, she speaking for both. Dante is so much affected by the narrative and by the agonies which Paoli all the while expresses, that he swoons away lifelessly. This is all that is necessary to a proper understanding of the episode. It contains several of the most frequently-quoted passages from Dante—passages singularly suggestive and comprehensive—and affords as just an idea of his manner as could be gathered from any portion of his divine poem. The measure employed here is that of the original, the terza rima; and the number of the lines is nearly the same, Dante's being 142, and this 140.

From the first circle thus descending down,
I pass'd into the next of smaller space,
But deeper torment and superior groan.
There horrible Minos sits, with mocking face,
Watching the entrance for the criminal,
Whom, judged, he quick dispatches without grace.
Near him, the ill-born shade confesses all:

357

Soul-searcher, he discovers, as he eyes,
To what dire mansion it is doom'd to fall,
And with his spiral snake extremities
Coiling around him, shows how far below,
To what degree of doom the spirit hies.
Ever before him stand a crowd, who go,
Each, headlong down to judgment; they are heard,
And hear, and then speed whirling into woe.
“Oh! thou”—to me then Minos yielded word,
As, seeing me, his office he forebore—
“Look where thou go'st, and whom thou hast preferr'd
To be thy guide; and seek no open door,
Won by its wideness.” To him, then, my guide:
“Why wouldst thou hinder that he should explore?
Such is his mission, will'd, where power beside
May do what still it wills. No farther ask.”
And now mine ears began to open wide
To dolorous complaints. My sorrowful task
Now led me forward where the numerous wail
Assail'd me; and, as cover'd with Night's mask,
I pass'd into a region full of bale,
Mute of all light, and raging like the sea,
Torn by conflicting winds in bellowing gale.
The infernal tempest, from its coil ne'er free,
Still toss'd the distracted spirits in its sweep,
Sore whirl'd and vex'd, incapable to flee;
Dash'd 'gainst their rocks of ruin, curses deep
Blaspheme the power divine; and all is moan,
Bitter lament, and woes that wail, not weep.
Such was the doom; capricious thus; and borne
By fitful blasts through the unlighted air,
Were those who, by tempestuous passions torn,
Yield reason up to lust: so starlings bear,
Abroad in wintry storms, a trooping host,

358

Hither and thither, powerless, as they veer.
Hope of less pain, or of repose, thus tost,
No comfort brings; but as the cranes depart
With mournful chant, and streaking the lone sky,
So borne by the impetuous blasts, thus dart
These shadowy hosts with mournful scream and cry.
“Master,” I then, with great concern of heart,
“What are these people, shrieking piteously,
Whom the keen wind thus lashes?” He replied—
“She that first comes was queen of many lands:
With lust corrupt, she made the laws provide
That vice should show for virtue. Her commands
Shaped the decree to favor the denied—
Semiramis, who, held in golden bands,
Of Ninus, was his mother, and his wife,
And kept her rule where sways the Soldan now.
Who comes with her is she who, in love's strife,
To ashes of Sichœus broke her vow,
And, with self-slaughtering hand, smote her own life.
The next is Cleopatra.” Then I saw
Helen, who for so long a time of ill
Prevail'd; and great Achilles came, who fought
With love the last; Paris, Tristan; and still
Thousands beside, of whom “the master” taught,
Naming them as they rose, whom Love's sad will
Had smitten from our life. Then, as full fraught,
He told the story of old cavaliers,
And noble dames thus ruin'd, pity stole
Upon and conquer'd me; and, in my tears,
Bewilder'd, and with melancholy soul,
I spake: “The cloud, O Bard, that now appears,
Hath two that go together, and do roll
Most light before the wind—with them awhile
I willingly would speak.” “When they draw nigh”—

359

Thus did he answer me—“then shalt thou wile
With adjuration of love—for still they fly
Obedient to the passion which did beguile—
And they will come to thee.” Soon as mine eye
Beheld them borne toward us on the blast,
I cried with lifted voice: “If none withholds,
Oh! wearied souls, come hither to us and speak.”
Then as two doves whom one desire enfolds,
Fly with twin pinion their sweet nest to seek,
So those two spirits whom one will embolds,
From the same circle which doth Dido keep—
Such was the power of my appealing cry—
Came to us, borne through the malignant air.
“Oh! being most gracious, whose benignant eye
Thus seeks us through this sooty atmosphere—
We who stain'd earth with deep and bloody dye—
If we had favor with heaven, our earnest prayer
Were for thy peace, seeing that on our woe
Thou hast had ruth. Of that which thou wouldst say,
Or that which it would please thee best to know,
Speak freely—we will answer as we may,
The blast as now being still.—Beside the Po,
Where seeking kindred waters he must stray,
My native city sits. Love, which in breast
Of tenderness is ever quickly caught
With that fair form, no more by me possess'd,
Won him; and still with grief my soul is fraught
By that sweet prize. Love, which in all confess'd,
Leaves none escape from passion, strongly taught
My heart to joy in him, with such delight
As leaves me not even yet. Love to one death
Conducted both; but Cain's deep realm of fright
Waits him whose cruel vengeance quench'd our breath.”
Thus spake they. When that I had heard each sprite,

360

I bowed me, till at last the Poet saith—
“What think'st thou?” And I answer'd him—“Ah, me!
What were the sweet dreams, what the longings dear
That led them to this fate and misery?”
To them I turn'd—“Francesca, look—the tear
Flows for thy grief. Yet farther would I see—
How Love, in season of youth's sweetest care,
First taught thy heart its dubious want to know.”
Then she to me replied—“The greatest grief
Is to remember in our hours of woe
How blest we have been. He can tell, thy chief;
But if thou will'st that I the story show
Of love's first shoots in the beginning leaf,
I will, as one who tells but weeps, relate.
One day together as we sat alone,
We read for pastime of knight Lancelot's fate—
How Love compell'd him. Nothing had we known
To wake suspicion of our mutual state;
Yet, as our eyes met, from our cheeks had flown
The color as we read. The moment came
Which conquer'd both. 'Twas where we found that he
Kiss'd on the cheek the sweet smile of his dame:
Even then he kiss'd my mouth all tremblingly.
The book was Galleotto. Such the name
Of him who wrote. But in that volume we
Read nothing more that day.” While thus one sprite
Reveal'd, the other wept; and with such woe,
That, in my sorrow at so sad a sight,
I fainting sunk, as if beneath the blow
Of Death, and in my anguish fell outright,
As the dead body, hopelessly, falls low.

University of Virginia Library

FRANCESCA DA RIMINI.

EPISODE FROM DANTE.