Divine Comedy, Longfellow's Translation, Complete

“O,” said I to him, “now art thou, too, dead?” And he to me: “How may my body fare Up in the world, no knowledge I possess.

Such an advantage has this Ptolomaea, That oftentimes the soul descendeth here Sooner than Atropos in motion sets it.

And, that thou mayest more willingly remove From off my countenance these glassy tears, Know that as soon as any soul betrays

As I have done, his body by a demon Is taken from him, who thereafter rules it, Until his time has wholly been revolved.

Itself down rushes into such a cistern; And still perchance above appears the body Of yonder shade, that winters here behind me.

This thou shouldst know, if thou hast just come down; It is Ser Branca d’ Oria, and many years Have passed away since he was thus locked up.”

“I think,” said I to him, “thou dost deceive me; For Branca d’ Oria is not dead as yet, And eats, and drinks, and sleeps, and puts on clothes.”

“In moat above,” said he, “of Malebranche, There where is boiling the tenacious pitch, As yet had Michel Zanche not arrived,

When this one left a devil in his stead In his own body and one near of kin, Who made together with him the betrayal.

But hitherward stretch out thy hand forthwith, Open mine eyes;”—and open them I did not, And to be rude to him was courtesy.

Ah, Genoese! ye men at variance With every virtue, full of every vice Wherefore are ye not scattered from the world?

For with the vilest spirit of Romagna I found of you one such, who for his deeds In soul already in Cocytus bathes,

And still above in body seems alive!