The same tongue that wounded me first,
staining both my cheeks with shame,
then offered its own cure—
just as Achilles' spear, his father's before him,
was known to wound first, then heal.
We turned our backs on that wretched valley,
climbing the bank that circles it,
crossing without a word.
The light was neither night nor day,
so I could barely see ahead,
but I heard the blast of a horn so loud
it would have drowned out thunder itself.
Following that tremendous sound,
I turned my eyes toward its source.
After that crushing defeat
when Charlemagne lost his holy war,
not even Roland's horn rang out so terribly.
I had barely turned my head
when I seemed to see many tall towers rising,
and I asked: "Master, what city is this?"
He answered: "Because you're peering
through darkness at too great a distance,
your imagination deceives you.
When we get closer, you'll see
how distance tricks the senses—
so quicken your pace a little."
Then he took my hand gently and said:
"Before we go any further,
to make this seem less strange,
know that these are not towers, but giants,
standing in the pit around the rim,
buried from the navel down."
Like fog gradually lifting
to reveal what mist had hidden,
as we pushed through the thick, dark air
and drew closer to the edge,
my error fled and fear took hold—
for just as Montereggione crowns itself
with towers along its circular walls,
so the horrible giants, whom Jove still threatens
with thunder from the heavens,
rose like battlements around this well,
towering from the waist up.
I could already make out one giant's face,
shoulders, chest, and most of his belly,
and both arms hanging at his sides.
Nature did well indeed
when she stopped making creatures like these,
taking such weapons away from Mars.
And while she doesn't regret
making elephants and whales,
anyone who looks carefully
will find her more just and wise for this—
for when sharp intelligence
joins with evil will and power,
no defense can protect humanity.
His face seemed as long and broad
as the bronze pinecone at Saint Peter's in Rome,
and his other features matched that scale.
The rim of the pit, like an apron
covering him from the waist down,
still left so much visible above
that three tall men standing on each other's shoulders
couldn't have reached his hair—
I could see thirty handspans of him
above where a man would wear his belt.
"Raphel mai amech izabi almi!"
the savage mouth began to bellow—
no sweeter song would suit those lips.
My guide called back: "Foolish soul!
Stick to your horn and blow off steam with that
when rage or passion moves you.
Feel around your neck—you'll find the strap
that holds it, confused spirit,
and see how it crosses your enormous chest."
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THE GIANTS—NIMROD
“My guide called back: "Foolish soul! / Stick to your horn and blow off steam with that / when rage or passion moves you.”
Then he said to me: "He condemns himself.
This is Nimrod, whose wicked plan
left the world without one common language.
Let's leave him here and waste no more words—
every language sounds the same to him
as his sounds to us, understood by none."
We made a longer journey then,
turning left, and at a crossbow shot's distance
found another giant, far more fierce and large.
Who could have been strong enough to bind him
I cannot say, but he was chained
with his right arm pinioned behind his back,
the left in front, wrapped in chains
from the neck down that coiled around him
five times on the part we could see.
"This proud one wanted to test
his strength against almighty Jove,"
my leader said, "and this is his reward.
His name is Ephialtes—he showed great might
when the giants made the gods tremble.
The arms he brandished then will never move again."
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EPHIALTES
“"This proud one wanted to test / his strength against almighty Jove,"”
I said to him: "If it were possible,
I'd love to see the immeasurable Briareus
with my own eyes."
He replied: "Nearby you'll see Antaeus,
who can speak and isn't chained.
He'll carry us down to the bottom of all sin.
The one you want to see is much farther on—
he's bound and shaped like this one,
but looks even more ferocious."
No earthquake ever shook a tower
as violently as Ephialtes
suddenly shook himself.
Never had I been more afraid of death—
fear alone would have killed me
if I hadn't seen those chains holding him.
We continued forward
and came to Antaeus, who rose
a full twenty-five feet from the pit,
not counting his head.
"O you who in that blessed valley
where Scipio won eternal glory
when Hannibal retreated with his army,
once captured a thousand lions as prey—
you who, if you had fought
in the great war alongside your brothers,
some still believe would have given
the sons of Earth victory:
carry us down without disdain
to where the cold locks up Cocytus.
Don't make us go to Tityos or Typhoeus—
this man can give you what you crave up there.
So bend down and don't sneer.
He can still restore your fame in the world,
for he lives and expects a long life,
unless Grace calls him early."
So spoke my master, and quickly
the giant stretched out those hands
that once made Hercules feel their terrible grip,
and lifted up my guide.
When Virgil felt himself seized,
he said to me: "Come close so I can hold you"—
and made us into a single bundle.
Like the Garisenda tower appears
when you stand beneath its leaning side
and a cloud passes over it the opposite way,
making it seem to fall toward you—
that's how Antaeus looked to me
as I watched him bend down.
I wished we could have taken another route.
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ANTAEUS—DESCENT TO THE LAST CIRCLE
“making it seem to fall toward you— / that's how Antaeus looked to me”
But gently he lowered us into the abyss
that swallows Judas and Lucifer together.
And having bent down to place us there,
he straightened up again,
quick as a ship's mast rising.