Depriv’d, and set them at this strife, which needs
No labour’d phrase of mine to set if off. 
Now may’st thou see, my son! how brief, how vain,
The goods committed into fortune’s hands,
For which the human race keep such a coil! 
Not all the gold, that is beneath the moon,
Or ever hath been, of these toil-worn souls
Might purchase rest for one.”  I thus rejoin’d: 
     “My guide! of thee this also would I learn;
This fortune, that thou speak’st of, what it is,
Whose talons grasp the blessings of the world?”
     He thus:  “O beings blind! what ignorance
Besets you?  Now my judgment hear and mark. 
He, whose transcendent wisdom passes all,
The heavens creating, gave them ruling powers
To guide them, so that each part shines to each,
Their light in equal distribution pour’d. 
By similar appointment he ordain’d
Over the world’s bright images to rule. 
Superintendence of a guiding hand
And general minister, which at due time
May change the empty vantages of life
From race to race, from one to other’s blood,
Beyond prevention of man’s wisest care: 
Wherefore one nation rises into sway,
Another languishes, e’en as her will
Decrees, from us conceal’d, as in the grass
The serpent train.  Against her nought avails
Your utmost wisdom.  She with foresight plans,
Judges, and carries on her reign, as theirs
The other powers divine.  Her changes know
Nore intermission:  by necessity
She is made swift, so frequent come who claim
Succession in her favours.  This is she,
So execrated e’en by those, whose debt
To her is rather praise; they wrongfully
With blame requite her, and with evil word;
But she is blessed, and for that recks not: 
Amidst the other primal beings glad
Rolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults. 
Now on our way pass we, to heavier woe
Descending:  for each star is falling now,
That mounted at our entrance, and forbids
Too long our tarrying.”  We the circle cross’d
To the next steep, arriving at a well,
That boiling pours itself down to a foss
Sluic’d from its source.  Far murkier was the wave
Than sablest grain:  and we in company
Of the’ inky waters, journeying by their side,
Enter’d, though by a different track, beneath. 
Into a lake, the Stygian nam’d, expands
The dismal stream, when it hath reach’d the foot
Of the grey wither’d cliffs.  Intent I stood
To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried
A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks
Betok’ning rage.  They with their hands alone
Struck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet,
Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs. 
     The good instructor spake; “Now seest thou, son! 
The souls of those, whom anger overcame. 
This too for certain know, that underneath
The water dwells a multitude, whose sighs
Into these bubbles make the surface heave,