"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;