Thus I descended out of the first circle Down to the second, that less space begirds, ⁠And so much greater dole, that goads to wailing. There standeth Minos horribly, and snarls; ⁠Examines the transgressions at the entrance; ⁠Judges, and sends according as he girds him. I say, that when the spirit evil-born ⁠Cometh before him, wholly it confesses; ⁠And this discriminator of transgressions Seeth what place in Hell is meet for it; ⁠Girds himself with his tail as many times ⁠As grades he wishes it should be thrust down. Always before him many of them stand; ⁠They go by turns each one unto the judgment; ⁠They speak, and hear, and then are downward hurled. “O thou, that to this dolorous hostelry ⁠Comest,” said Minos to me, when he saw me, ⁠Leaving the practice of so great an office, “Look how thou enterest, and in whom thou trustest; ⁠Let not the portal’s amplitude deceive thee.” ⁠And unto him my Guide: “Why criest thou too? Do not impede his journey fate-ordained; ⁠It is so willed there where is power to do ⁠That which is willed; and ask no further question.” And now begin the dolesome notes to grow ⁠Audible unto me; now am I come ⁠There where much lamentation strikes upon me. I came into a place mute of all light, ⁠Which bellows as the sea does in a tempest, ⁠If by opposing winds ‘t is combated. The infernal hurricane that never rests ⁠Hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine; ⁠Whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. When they arrive before the precipice, ⁠There are the shrieks, the plaints, and the laments, ⁠There they blaspheme the puissance divine. I understood that unto such a torment ⁠The carnal malefactors were condemned, ⁠Who reason subjugate to appetite. And as the wings of starlings bear them on ⁠In the cold season in large band and full, ⁠So doth that blast the spirits maledict; It hither, thither, downward, upward, drives them; ⁠No hope doth comfort them forevermore, ⁠Not of repose, but even of lesser pain. And as the cranes go chanting forth their lays, ⁠Making in air a long line of themselves, ⁠So saw I coming, uttering lamentations, Shadows borne onward by the aforesaid stress. ⁠Whereupon said I: “Master, who are those ⁠People, whom the black air so castigates?” “The first of those, of whom intelligence ⁠Thou fain wouldst have,” then said he unto me, ⁠”The empress was of many languages. To sensual vices she was so abandoned, ⁠That lustful she made licit in her law, ⁠To remove the blame to which she had been led. She is Semiramis, of whom we read ⁠That she succeeded Ninus, and was his spouse; ⁠She held the land which now the Sultan rules. The next is she who killed herself for love, ⁠And broke faith with the ashes of Sichæus; ⁠Then Cleopatra the voluptuous.” Helen I saw, for whom so many ruthless ⁠Seasons revolved; and saw the great Achilles, ⁠Who at the last hour combated with Love. Paris I saw, Tristan; and more than a thousand ⁠Shades did he name and point out with his finger, ⁠Whom Love had separated from our life. After that I had listened to my Teacher, ⁠Naming the dames of eld and cavaliers, ⁠Pity prevailed, and I was nigh bewildered. And I began: “O Poet, willingly ⁠Speak would I to those two, who go together, ⁠And seem upon the wind to be so light.” And he to me: “Thou ‘lt mark, when they shall be ⁠Nearer to us; and then do thou implore them ⁠By love which leadeth them, and they will come.” Soon as the wind in our direction sways them, ⁠My voice uplift I: “O ye weary souls! ⁠Come speak to us, if no one interdicts it.” As turtle-doves, called onward by desire, ⁠With open and steady wings to the sweet nest ⁠Fly through the air by their volition borne, So came they from the band where Dido is, ⁠Approaching us athwart the air malign, ⁠So strong was the affectionate appeal. “O living creature gracious and benignant, ⁠Who visiting goest through the purple air ⁠Us, who have stained the world incarnadine, If were the King of the Universe our friend, ⁠We would pray unto him to give thee peace, ⁠Since thou hast pity on our woe perverse. Of what it pleases thee to hear or speak, ⁠That will we hear, and we will speak to you, ⁠While silent is the wind, as it is now. Sitteth the city, wherein I was born, ⁠Upon the sea-shore where the Po descends ⁠To rest in peace with all his retinue. Love, that on gentle heart doth swiftly seize, ⁠Seized this man for the person beautiful ⁠That was ta’en from me, and still the mode offends me. Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving, ⁠Seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly, ⁠That, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me; Love has conducted us unto one death; ⁠Caïna waiteth him who quenched our life!” ⁠These words were borne along from them to us. As soon as I had heard those souls tormented, ⁠I bowed my face, and so long held it down ⁠Until the Poet said to me: “What thinkest?” When I made answer, I began: “Alas! ⁠How many pleasant thoughts, how much desire, ⁠Conducted these unto the dolorous pass!” Then unto them I turned me, and I spake, ⁠And I began: “Thine agonies, Francesca, ⁠Sad and compassionate to weeping make me. But tell me, at the time of those sweet sighs, ⁠By what and in what manner Love conceded, ⁠That you should know your dubious desires?” And she to me: “There is no greater sorrow ⁠Than to be mindful of the happy time ⁠In misery, and that thy Teacher knows. But, if to recognize the earliest root ⁠Of love in us thou hast so great desire, ⁠I will do even as he who weeps and speaks. One day we reading were for our delight ⁠Of Launcelot, how Love did him enthrall. ⁠Alone we were and without any fear. Full many a time our eyes together drew ⁠That reading, and drove the color from our faces; ⁠But one point only was it that o’ercame us. Whenas we read of the much longed-for smile ⁠Being by such a noble lover kissed, ⁠This one, who ne’er from me shall be divided, Kissed me upon the mouth all palpitating. ⁠Galeotto was the book and he who wrote it. ⁠That day no farther did we read therein.” And all the while one spirit uttered this, ⁠The other one did weep so, that, for pity, ⁠I swooned away as if I had been dying, And fell, even as a dead body falls.