Inferno: Canto XIII
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Dante Alighieri and Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth
Those legs of thine at joustings of the Toppo!” And then, perchance because his breath was failing, He grouped himself together with a bush.
Behind them was the forest full of black She-mastiffs, ravenous, and swift of foot As greyhounds, who are issuing from the chain.
On him who had crouched down they set their teeth, And him they lacerated piece by piece, Thereafter bore away those aching members.
Thereat my Escort took me by the hand, And led me to the bush, that all in vain Was weeping from its bloody lacerations.
“O Jacopo,” it said, “of Sant’ Andrea, What helped it thee of me to make a screen? What blame have I in thy nefarious life?”
When near him had the Master stayed his steps, He said: “Who wast thou, that through wounds so many Art blowing out with blood thy dolorous speech?”
And he to us: “O souls, that hither come To look upon the shameful massacre That has so rent away from me my leaves,
Gather them up beneath the dismal bush; I of that city was which to the Baptist Changed its first patron, wherefore he for this
Forever with his art will make it sad. And were it not that on the pass of Arno Some glimpses of him are remaining still,
Those citizens, who afterwards rebuilt it Upon the ashes left by Attila, In vain had caused their labour to be done.
Of my own house I made myself a gibbet.”