The Eighth Circle. Fraud
The Third Trench. Simoniacs
O Simon Magus, O his wretched followers,
since ye the things of God, which ought to be
the brides of righteousness, rapaciously
adulterate for silver and for gold;
it now behooves the trumpet sound for you,
for in the third great trench your station is!
We now had climbed the next tomb-spanning bridge,
and were on that part of the crag, which hangs
directly o’er the middle of the trench.
Wisdom Supreme, how great the art thou showest
in Heaven, on earth, and in the evil world!
How justly, too, thy virtue makes awards!
I saw that on its sloping sides and bottom
the livid-colored stone was full of holes,
all of one width, while each of them was round.
Nor less nor more wide did they seem to me,
than those which in my beautiful Saint John’s
are made as places for baptizing priests;
and one of which, not many years ago,
I broke, to save one who was choking in it;
be this a witness undeceiving all!
Out of the mouth of each a sinner’s feet
protruded, and, as far as to the calf,
his legs; the rest of him remained within.
The soles of all were, both of them, on fire;
because of which their joints so strongly twitched,
they would have snapped green twigs and cords of grass.
And as a flame on oily things is wont
to move along the outer surface only;
so likewise was it there from heels to toes.
“Who, Teacher, is he yonder, who is tortured
by twitching more than all the rest, his mates,”
said I, “and whom a redder flame is sucking?”
And he to me: “If thou wouldst have me bear thee
down yonder bank which lowest lies, from him
thou ’lt know both of himself and of his sins.”
And I: “What pleases thee I like; my lord
thou art, and that I part not from thy will
thou knowst, as also what is left unsaid.”
We then upon the fourth embankment came,
and, turning round, descended on our left
into that narrow bottom pierced with holes;
nor yet did my good Teacher set me down
from off his back, but brought me to the hole
of him who grieved so sorely with his shank.
“Whoe’er thou art, sad soul, that holdest down
thine upper portion, planted like a stake,”
I then began, “say something, if thou canst.”
I there was like a friar that confesses
a base assassin, who, on being planted,
calls him again, that death may be delayed.
And he cried out: “Dost thou stand there already,
dost thou stand there already, Boniface?
By several years the writing lied to me.
Art thou so quickly sated with the wealth,
for which thou didst not fear to seize by fraud,
and outrage next, the Lady beautiful?”
Even such did I become, as those are, who,
not understanding what is answered them,
deem themselves mocked, and think of…
