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    Canto III

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    "Through me the way is to the city dolent;
    Through me the way is to eternal dole;
    Through me the way among the people lost.
    Justice incited my sublime Creator;
    Created me divine Omnipotence,
    The highest Wisdom and the primal Love.
    Before me there were no created things,
    Only eterne, and I eternal last.
    All hope abandon, ye who enter in!"
    These words in sombre colour I beheld
    Written upon the summit of a gate;
    Whence I: "Their sense is, Master, hard to me!"
    And he to me, as one experienced:
    "Here all suspicion needs must be abandoned,
    All cowardice must needs be here extinct.
    We to the place have come, where I have told thee
    Thou shalt behold the people dolorous
    Who have foregone the good of intellect."
    And after he had laid his hand on mine
    With joyful mien, whence I was comforted,
    He led me in among the secret things.
    There sighs, complaints, and ululations loud
    Resounded through the air without a star,
    Whence I, at the beginning, wept thereat.
    Languages diverse, horrible dialects,
    Accents of anger, words of agony,
    And voices high and hoarse, with sound of hands,
    Made up a tumult that goes whirling on
    For ever in that air for ever black,
    Even as the sand doth, when the whirlwind breathes.
    And I, who had my head with horror bound,
    Said: "Master, what is this which now I hear?
    What folk is this, which seems by pain so vanquished?"
    And he to me: "This miserable mode
    Maintain the melancholy souls of those
    Who lived withouten infamy or praise.
    Commingled are they with that caitiff choir
    Of Angels, who have not rebellious been,
    Nor faithful were to God, but were for self.
    The heavens expelled them, not to be less fair;
    Nor them the nethermore abyss receives,
    For glory none the damned would have from them."
    And I: "O Master, what so grievous is
    To these, that maketh them lament so sore?"
    He answered: "I will tell thee very briefly.
    These have no longer any hope of death;
    And this blind life of theirs is so debased,
    They envious are of every other fate.
    No fame of them the world permits to be;
    Misericord and Justice both disdain them.
    Let us not speak of them, but look, and pass."
    And I, who looked again, beheld a banner,
    Which, whirling round, ran on so rapidly,

    That of all pause it seemed to me indignant;
    And after it there came so long a train
    Of people, that I ne'er would have believed
    That ever Death so many had undone.
    When some among them I had recognised,
    I looked, and I beheld the shade of him
    Who made through cowardice the great refusal.
    Forthwith I comprehended, and was certain,
    That this the sect was of the caitiff wretches
    Hateful to God and to his enemies.
    These
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