Divine Comedy

SOON as the charity of native land Wrought in my bosom, I the scatter'd leaves Collected, and to him restor'd, who now Was hoarse with utt'rance. To the limit thence We came, which from the third the second round Divides, and where of justice is display'd Contrivance horrible. Things then first seen Clearlier to manifest, I tell how next A plain we reach'd, that from its sterile bed Each plant repell'd. The mournful wood waves round Its garland on all sides, as round the wood Spreads the sad foss. There, on the very edge, Our steps we stay'd. It was an area wide Of arid sand and thick, resembling most The soil that erst by Cato's foot was trod.

Vengeance of Heav'n! Oh! how shouldst thou be fear'd By all, who read what here my eyes beheld!