So it ran on, and still behind it pressed Let us not speak of them: look, and pass on.”Ĭircling and circling, it seemed to scorn all pause. No word of them survives their living season. “and in their blind and unattaining state “They have no hope of death,” he answered me, Scourged them from Heaven for its perfect beauty,Īnd Hell will not receive them since the wicked Of angels who were neither for God nor Satan,īut only for themselves. They are mixed here with that despicable corps Whose lives concluded neither blame nor praise. What souls are these who run through this black haze?”Īnd he to me: “These are the nearly soulless Holding my head in horror, cried: “Sweet Spirit, In pain and anger, voices hoarse and shrillĪnd sounds of blows, all intermingled, raised On the starless air, spilling my soul to tears.Ī confusion of tongues and monstrous accents toiled Here sighs and cries and wails coiled and recoiled Souls who have lost the good of intellect.” Here you shall pass among the fallen people. “Here must you put by all division of spiritĪnd gather your soul against all cowardice.” What is the meaning of this harsh inscription?”
WERE MADE BEFORE ME, AND BEYOND TIME I STAND.Ībove a gate. Canto III The vestibule of hell: The opportunists
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