Inferno

About the Book

In 1867, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow completed the first American translation of Inferno and thus introduced Dante’s literary genius to the New World. In the Inferno, the spirit of the classical poet Virgil leads Dante through the nine circles of Hell on the initial stage of his journey toward Heaven. Along the way Dante encounters and describes in vivid detail the various types of sinners in the throes of their eternal torment.
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Praise for Inferno

“Opening the book we stand face to face with the poet, and when his voice ceases we may marvel if he has not sung to us in his own Tuscan.” —William Dean Howells, The Nation
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Excerpt

Inferno

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita

  mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,

  che la diritta via era smarrita.

Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura4

  esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte

  che nel pensier rinova la paura!

Tant' è amara che poco è più morte;7

  ma per trattar del ben ch'i' vi trovai,

  dirò de l'altre cose ch'i' v'ho scorte.

Io non so ben ridir com' i' v'intrai,10

  tant' era pien di sonno a quel punto

  che la verace via abbandonai.

Ma poi ch'i' fui al piè d'un colle giunto,13

  là dove terminava quella valle

  che m'avea di paura il cor compunto,

guardai in alto e vidi le sue spalle16

  vestite già de' raggi del pianeta

  che mena dritto altrui per ogne calle.

Allor fu la paura un poco queta,19

  che nel lago del cor m'era durata

  la notte ch'i' passai con tanta pieta.

E come quei che con lena affannata,22

  uscito fuor del pelago a la riva,

  si volge a l'acqua perigliosa e guata,

Canto One

Lost in a dark wood and threatened by three beasts, Dante is rescued by Virgil, who proposes a journey to the other world.

Midway upon the journey of our life

  I found myself in a dark wilderness,

  for I had wandered from the straight and true.

How hard a thing it is to tell about,4

  that wilderness so savage, dense, and harsh,

  even to think of it renews my fear!

It is so bitter, death is hardly more-7

  but to reveal the good that came to me,

  I shall relate the other things I saw.

How I had entered, I can't bring to mind,10

  I was so full of sleep just at that point

  when I first left the way of truth behind.

But when I reached the foot of a high hill,13

  right where the valley opened to its end-

  the valley that had pierced my heart with fear-

I raised my eyes and saw its shoulders robed16

  with the rays of that wandering light of Heaven°

  that leads all men aright on every road.

That quieted a bit the dread that stirred19

  trembling within the waters of my heart

  all through that night of misery I endured.

And as a man with labored breathing drags22

  his legs out of the water and, ashore,

  fixes his eyes upon the dangerous sea,

° that wandering light of Heaven: Italian pianeta, "planet." It is the sun, considered a planet, or wandering light, revolving about the earth.

così l'animo mio, ch'ancor fuggiva,25

  si volse a retro a rimirar lo passo

  che non lasciò già mai persona viva.

Poi ch'èi posato un poco il corpo lasso,28

  ripresi via per la piaggia diserta,

  sì che 'l piè fermo sempre era 'l più basso.

Ed ecco, quasi al cominciar de l'erta,31

  una lonza leggera e presta molto,

  che di pel macolato era coverta;

e non mi si partia dinanzi al volto,34

  anzi 'mpediva tanto il mio cammino,

  ch'i' fui per ritornar più volte vòlto.

Temp' era dal principio del mattino,37

  e 'l sol montava 'n sù con quelle stelle

  ch'eran con lui quando l'amor divino

mosse di prima quelle cose belle;40

  sì ch'a bene sperar m'era cagione

  di quella fiera a la gaetta pelle

l'ora del tempo e la dolce stagione;43

  ma non sì che paura non mi desse

  la vista che m'apparve d'un leone.

Questi parea che contra me venisse46

  con la test' alta e con rabbiosa fame,

  sì che parea che l'aere ne tremesse.

Ed una lupa, che di tutte brame49

  sembiava carca ne la sua magrezza,

  e molte genti fé già viver grame,

questa mi porse tanto di gravezza52

  con la paura ch'uscia di sua vista,

  ch'io perdei la speranza de l'altezza.

E qual è quei che volontieri acquista,55

  e giugne 'l tempo che perder lo face,

  che 'n tutti suoi pensier piange e s'attrista;

tal mi fece la bestia sanza pace,58

  che, venendomi 'ncontro, a poco a poco

  mi ripigneva là dove 'l sol tace. So too my mind, while still a fugitive,25

  turned back to gaze again upon that pass

  which never let a man escape alive.

When I had given my weary body rest,28

  I struck again over the desert slope,

  ever the firmer foot the one below,

And look! just where the steeper rise began,31

  a leopard light of foot and quick to lunge,

  all covered in a pelt of flecks and spots,

Who stood before my face and would not leave,34

  but did so check me in the path I trod,

  I often turned to go the way I came.

The hour was morning at the break of dawn;37

  the sun was mounting higher with those stars°

  that shone beside him when the Love Divine

In the beginning made their beauty move,40

  and so they were a cause of hope for me

  to get free of that beast of flashy hide-

The waking hour and that sweet time of year;43

  but hope was not so strong that I could stand

  bold when a lion stepped before my eyes!

This one seemed to be coming straight for me,46

  his head held high, his hunger hot with wrath-

  seemed to strike tremors in the very air!

Then a she-wolf, whose scrawniness seemed stuffed49

  with all men's cravings, sluggish with desires,

  who had made many live in wretchedness-

So heavily she weighed my spirit down,52

  pressing me by the terror of her glance,

  I lost all hope to gain the mountaintop.

And as a gambler, winning with a will,55

  happening on the time when he must lose,

  turns all his thoughts to weeping and despair,

So I by that relentless beast, who came58

  against me step by step, and drove me back

  to where the sun is silent evermore.

those stars: the constellation Aries. It is the springtime of the year, recalling the springtime of the universe; see notes. Mentre ch'i' rovinava in basso loco,61

  dinanzi a li occhi mi si fu offerto

  chi per lungo silenzio parea fioco.

Quando vidi costui nel gran diserto,64

  «Miserere di me», gridai a lui,

  «qual che tu sii, od ombra od omo certo!».

Rispuosemi: «Non omo, omo già fui,67

  e li parenti miei furon lombardi,

  mantoani per patrïa ambedui.

Nacqui sub Iulio, ancor che fosse tardi,70

  e vissi a Roma sotto 'l buono Augusto

  nel tempo de li dèi falsi e bugiardi.

Poeta fui, e cantai di quel giusto73

  figliuol d'Anchise che venne di Troia,

  poi che 'l superbo Ilïón fu combusto.

Ma tu perché ritorni a tanta noia?76

  perché non sali il dilettoso monte

  ch'è principio e cagion di tutta gioia?».

«Or se' tu quel Virgilio e quella fonte79

  che spandi di parlar sì largo fiume?»,

  rispuos' io lui con vergognosa fronte.

«O de li altri poeti onore e lume,82

  vagliami 'l lungo studio e 'l grande amore

  che m'ha fatto cercar lo tuo volume.

Tu se' lo mio maestro e 'l mio autore,85

  tu se' solo colui da cu' io tolsi

  lo bello stilo che m'ha fatto onore.

Vedi la bestia per cu' io mi volsi;88

  aiutami da lei, famoso saggio,

  ch'ella mi fa tremar le vene e i polsi».

«A te convien tenere altro vïaggio»,91

  rispuose, poi che lagrimar mi vide,

  «se vuo' campar d'esto loco selvaggio;

ché questa bestia, per la qual tu gride,94

  non lascia altrui passar per la sua via,

  ma tanto lo 'mpedisce che l'uccide;

Now while I stumbled to the deepest wood,61

  before my eyes appeared the form of one

  who seemed hoarse, having held his words so long.

And when I saw him in that endless waste,64

  "Mercy upon me, mercy!" I cried out,

  "whatever you are, a shade, or man in truth!"

He answered me: "No man; I was a man,67

  and both my parents came from Lombardy,

  and Mantua they called their native land.

In the last days of Julius I was born,70

  and lived in Rome under the good Augustus

  in the time of the false and cheating gods.

I was a poet, and I sang of how73

  that just son of Anchises° came from Troy

  when her proud towers and walls were burnt to dust.

But you, why do you turn back to such pain?76

  Why don't you climb that hill that brings delight,

  the origin and cause of every joy?"

"Then are you-are you Virgil? And that spring79

  swelling into so rich a stream of verse?"

  I answered him, my forehead full of shame.

"Honor and light of every poet, may82

  my long study avail me, and the love

  that made me search the volume of your work.

You are my teacher, my authority;85

  you alone are the one from whom I took

  the style whose loveliness has honored me.

See there the beast that makes me turn aside.88

  Save me from her, O man renowned and wise!

  She sets the pulses trembling in my veins!"

"It is another journey you must take,"91

  replied the poet when he saw me weep,

  "if you wish to escape this savage place,

Because this beast that makes you cry for help94

  never lets any pass along her way,

  but checks his path until she takes his life.

The Divine Comedy Series

Paradise
Purgatory
Inferno
Inferno

About the Author

Dante
Dante Alighieri was born in Florence, Italy in 1265. His early poetry falls into the tradition of love poetry that passed from the Provencal to such Italian poets as Guido Cavalcanti, Dante's friend and mentor. Dante's first major work is the Vita Nuova, 1293-1294. This sequence of lyrics, sonnets, and prose narrative describes his love, first earthly, then spiritual, for Beatrice, whom he had first seen as a child of nine, and who had died when Dante was 25. Dante married about 1285, served Florence in battle, and rose to a position of leadership in the bitter factional politics of the city-state. As one of the city's magistrates, he found it necessary to banish leaders of the so-called "Black" faction, and his friend Cavalcanti, who like Dante was a prominent "White." But after the Blacks seized control of Florence in 1301, Dante himself was tried in absentia and was banished from the city on pain of death. He never returned to Florence. We know little about Dante's life in exile. Legend has it that he studied at Paris, but if so, he returned to Italy, for his last years were spent in Verona and Ravenna. In exile he wrote his Convivio, kind of poetic compendium of medieval philosophy, as well as a political treatise, Monarchia. He began his Comedy (later to be called the Divine Comedy) around 1307-1308. On a diplomatic mission to Venice in 1321, Dante fell ill, and returned to Ravenna, where he died. More by Dante
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About the Author

Lino Pertile
Dante Alighieri was born in Florence, Italy in 1265. His early poetry falls into the tradition of love poetry that passed from the Provencal to such Italian poets as Guido Cavalcanti, Dante's friend and mentor. Dante's first major work is the Vita Nuova, 1293-1294. This sequence of lyrics, sonnets, and prose narrative describes his love, first earthly, then spiritual, for Beatrice, whom he had first seen as a child of nine, and who had died when Dante was 25. Dante married about 1285, served Florence in battle, and rose to a position of leadership in the bitter factional politics of the city-state. As one of the city's magistrates, he found it necessary to banish leaders of the so-called "Black" faction, and his friend Cavalcanti, who like Dante was a prominent "White." But after the Blacks seized control of Florence in 1301, Dante himself was tried in absentia and was banished from the city on pain of death. He never returned to Florence. We know little about Dante's life in exile. Legend has it that he studied at Paris, but if so, he returned to Italy, for his last years were spent in Verona and Ravenna. In exile he wrote his Convivio, kind of poetic compendium of medieval philosophy, as well as a political treatise, Monarchia. He began his Comedy (later to be called the Divine Comedy) around 1307-1308. On a diplomatic mission to Venice in 1321, Dante fell ill, and returned to Ravenna, where he died. More by Lino Pertile
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About the Author

Matthew Pearl
Matthew Pearl is the New York Times bestselling author of The Dante Club, The Poe Shadow, The Last Dickens, The Technologists, The Last Bookaneer, and The Dante Chamber, and the editor of the Modern Library editions of Dante’s Inferno (translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) and Edgar Allan Poe’s The Murders in the Rue Morgue: The Dupin Tales. His books have been translated into more than thirty languages, and his nonfiction writing has appeared in The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Boston Globe, and Slate. More by Matthew Pearl
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) was the most popular and admired American poet of the nineteenth century. Born in Portland, Maine, and educated at Bowdoin College, Longfellow’s ambition was always to become a writer; but until mid-life his first profession was the teaching rather than the production of literature, at his alma mater (1829-35) and then at Harvard (1836-54). His teaching career was punctuated by two extended study-tours of Europe, during which Longfellow made himself fluent in all the major Romance and Germanic languages. Thanks to a fortunate marriage and the growing popularity of his work, from his mid-thirties onwards Longfellow, ensconced in a comfortable Cambridge mansion, was able to devote an increasingly large fraction of his energies to the long narrative historical and mythic poems that made him a household word, especially Evangeline (1847), The Song of Hiawatha (1855), The Courtship of Miles Standish (1858), and Tales of a Wayside Inn (1863, 1872, 1873). Versatile as well as prolific, Longfellow also won fame as a writer of short ballads and lyrics, and experimented in the essay, the short story, the novel, and the verse drama. Taken as a whole, Longfellow’s writings show a breadth of literary learning, an understanding of western languages and cultures, unmatched by any American writer of his time. More by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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