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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 443 pages of information about Divine Comedy, Cary's Translation, Complete.
on,
Came to Antaeus, who five ells complete
Without the head, forth issued from the cave. 
     “O thou, who in the fortunate vale, that made
Great Scipio heir of glory, when his sword
Drove back the troop of Hannibal in flight,
Who thence of old didst carry for thy spoil
An hundred lions; and if thou hadst fought
In the high conflict on thy brethren’s side,
Seems as men yet believ’d, that through thine arm
The sons of earth had conquer’d, now vouchsafe
To place us down beneath, where numbing cold
Locks up Cocytus.  Force not that we crave
Or Tityus’ help or Typhon’s.  Here is one
Can give what in this realm ye covet.  Stoop
Therefore, nor scornfully distort thy lip. 
He in the upper world can yet bestow
Renown on thee, for he doth live, and looks
For life yet longer, if before the time
Grace call him not unto herself.”  Thus spake
The teacher.  He in haste forth stretch’d his hands,
And caught my guide.  Alcides whilom felt
That grapple straighten’d score.  Soon as my guide
Had felt it, he bespake me thus:  “This way
That I may clasp thee;” then so caught me up,
That we were both one burden.  As appears
The tower of Carisenda, from beneath
Where it doth lean, if chance a passing cloud
So sail across, that opposite it hangs,
Such then Antaeus seem’d, as at mine ease
I mark’d him stooping.  I were fain at times
T’ have pass’d another way.  Yet in th’ abyss,
That Lucifer with Judas low ingulfs,
I,ightly he plac’d us; nor there leaning stay’d,
But rose as in a bark the stately mast.

CANTO XXXII

Could I command rough rhimes and hoarse, to suit
That hole of sorrow, o’er which ev’ry rock
His firm abutment rears, then might the vein
Of fancy rise full springing:  but not mine
Such measures, and with falt’ring awe I touch
The mighty theme; for to describe the depth
Of all the universe, is no emprize
To jest with, and demands a tongue not us’d
To infant babbling.  But let them assist
My song, the tuneful maidens, by whose aid
Amphion wall’d in Thebes, so with the truth
My speech shall best accord.  Oh ill-starr’d folk,
Beyond all others wretched! who abide
In such a mansion, as scarce thought finds words
To speak of, better had ye here on earth
Been flocks or mountain goats.  As down we stood
In the dark pit beneath the giants’ feet,
But lower far than they, and I did gaze
Still on the lofty battlement, a voice
Bespoke me thus:  “Look how thou walkest.  Take
Good heed, thy soles do tread not on the heads
Of thy poor brethren.”  Thereupon I turn’d,
And saw before and underneath my feet
A lake, whose frozen surface liker seem’d
To glass than water.  Not so thick a veil
In winter e’er hath Austrian Danube spread
O’er his still course, nor Tanais far remote

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