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    Canto XIV - Page 2

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    "O Capaneus, in that is not extinguished
    Thine arrogance, thou punished art the more;
    Not any torment, saving thine own rage,
    Would be unto thy fury pain complete."
    Then he turned round to me with better lip,
    Saying: "One of the Seven Kings was he
    Who Thebes besieged, and held, and seems to hold
    God in disdain, and little seems to prize him;
    But, as I said to him, his own despites
    Are for his breast the fittest ornaments.
    Now follow me, and mind thou do not place
    As yet thy feet upon the burning sand,
    But always keep them close unto the wood."
    Speaking no word, we came to where there gushes
    Forth from the wood a little rivulet,
    Whose redness makes my hair still stand on end.
    As from the Bulicame springs the brooklet,
    The sinful women later share among them,
    So downward through the sand it went its way.
    The bottom of it, and both sloping banks,
    Were made of stone, and the margins at the side;
    Whence I perceived that there the passage was.
    "In all the rest which I have shown to thee
    Since we have entered in within the gate
    Whose threshold unto no one is denied,
    Nothing has been discovered by thine eyes
    So notable as is the present river,
    Which all the little flames above it quenches."
    These words were of my Leader; whence I prayed him
    That he would give me largess of the food,
    For which he had given me largess of desire.
    "In the mid-sea there sits a wasted land,"
    Said he thereafterward, "whose name is Crete,
    Under whose king the world of old was chaste.
    There is a mountain there, that once was glad
    With waters and with leaves, which was called Ida;
    Now 'tis deserted, as a thing worn out.
    Rhea once chose it for the faithful cradle
    Of her own son; and to conceal him better,
    Whene'er he cried, she there had clamours made.
    A grand old man stands in the mount erect,
    Who holds his shoulders turned tow'rds Damietta,
    And looks at Rome as if it were his mirror.
    His head is fashioned of refined gold,
    And of pure silver are the arms and breast;
    Then he is brass as far down as the fork.
    From that point downward all is chosen iron,
    Save that the right foot is of kiln-baked clay,
    And more he stands on that than on the other.
    Each part, except the gold, is by a fissure

    Asunder cleft, that dripping is with tears,
    Which gathered together perforate that cavern.
    From rock to rock they fall into this valley;
    Acheron, Styx, and Phlegethon they form;
    Then downward go along this narrow sluice
    Unto that point where is no more descending.
    They form Cocytus; what that pool may be
    Thou shalt behold, so here 'tis not narrated."
    And I to him: "If so the present runnel
    Doth take its rise in this way from our world,
    Why
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