son was beheaded by order of Count Ugolino, the tyrant, who
commanded that his body should remain unburied. In the evening
his father went to the Count, as a stranger unconcerned in the
matter, and, without tears or other sign of grief, said, 'Surely,
my lord, it would be to your honor that that poor body should be
buried, and not left cruelly as food for dogs.' Then the Count,
recognizing him, said astonished, 'Go, your patience overcomes my
obduracy,' and immediately Marzucco went and buried his son."

[5] Of Count Orso nothing is known with certainty.

[6] Pierre de is Brosse was chamberlain and confidant of Philip
the Bold of France. He lost the king's favor, and charges of
wrong-doing being brought against him he was hung. It was
reported that his death was brought about through jealousy by
Mary of Brabant, the second wife of Philip. She lived till 1321,
so that Dante's warning may have reached her ears.


When I was free from each and all those shades who prayed only
that some one else should pray, so that their becoming holy may
be speeded, I began, "It seems that thou deniest to me, O Light
of mine, expressly, in a certain text, that orison can bend
decree of Heaven, and this folk pray only for this, -- shall then
their hope be vain? or is thy saying not rightly clear to me?[1]

[1] Virgil represents Palinurus as begging to be allowed to cross
the Styx, while his body was still unburied and without due
funeral rites. To this petition the Sibyl answers:--Desine fata
Deum flecti sperare precando:--Cease to hope that the decrees of
the gods can be changed by prayer."--Aeneid, vi. 376.


And he to me, "My writing is plain, and the hope of these is not
fallacious, if well it is regarded with sound mind; for top of
judgment vails not itself because a fire of love may, in one
instant, fulfil that which he who is stationed here must satisfy.
And there where I affirmed this proposition, defect was not
amended by a prayer, because the prayer was disjoined from God.
But truly in regard to so deep a doubt decide thou not, unless
she tell thee who shall be a light between the truth and the
understanding.[1] I know not if thou understandest; I speak of
Beatrice. Thou shalt see her above, smiling and happy, upon the
summit of this mountain."

[1] The question, being one that relates to the Divine will,
cannot be answered with full assurance by human reason.


And I, "My lord, let us go on with greater speed, for now I mu
not weary as before; and behold now how the bill casts its
shadow." "We will go forward with this day," he answered, "as
much further as we shall yet be able; but the fact is of other
form than thou supposest. Before thou art there-above thou wilt
see him return, who is now hidden by the hill-side so that thou
dost not make his rays to break. But see there a soul which
seated all alone is looking toward us; it will point out to us
the speediest way." We came to it. O Lombard soul, how lofty and
scornful wast thou; and in the movement of thine eyes grave and
slow! It said not anything to us, but let us go on, looking only
in manner of a lion when he couches. Virgil, however, drew near
to it, praying that it would show to us the best ascent; and it
answered not to his request, but of our country and life it asked
us. And the sweet Leader began, "Mantua,"--and the shade, all in
itself recluse, rose toward him from the place where erst it was,
saying, "O Mantuan, I am Sordello of thy city,"[1]--and they
embraced each other.

[1] Sordello, who lived early in the thirteenth century, was of
the family of the Visconti of Mantua. He left his native land and
gave up his native tongue to live and write as a troubadour in
Provence, but his fame belonged to Italy.


Ah, servile Italy, hostel of grief! ship without pilot in great
tempest! not lady of provinces, but a brothel! that gentle soul
was so ready, only at the sweet sound of his native land, to give
glad welcome here unto his fellow-citizen: and now in thee thy
living men exist not without war, and of those whom one wall and
one moat shut in one doth gnaw the other. Search, wretched one,
around the shores, thy seaboard, and then look within thy bosom,
if any part in thee enjoyeth peace! What avails it that for thee
Justinian should mend the bridle, if the saddle be empty? Without
this, the shame would be less. Ah folk,[1] that oughtest to be
devout and let Caesar sit in the saddle, if thou rightly
understandest what God notes for thee! Look how fell this wild
beast has become, through not being corrected by the spurs, since
thou didst put thy hand upon the bridle. O German Albert, who
abandonest her who has become untamed and savage, and oughtest to
bestride her saddle-bows, may a just judgment from the stars fall
upon thy blood, and may it be strange and manifest, so that thy
successor may have fear of it! [2] For thou and thy father,
retained up there by greed, have suffered the garden of the
empire to become desert. Come thou to see Montecchi and
Cappelletti, Monaldi and Filippeschi,[3] thou man without care:
those already wretched, and these in dread. Come, cruel one,
come, and see the distress of thy nobility, and cure their hurts;
and thou shalt see Santafiora[4] how safe it is. Come to see thy
Rome, that weeps, widowed and alone, and day and night cries, "My
Caesar, wherefore dost thou not keep me company?" Come to see the


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