# Inferno Canto 13

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-18 — 1 clipping.*

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> Christianity Index  Divine Comedy Index  Previous: Inferno Canto 12  Next: Inferno Canto 14  
> 
> Canto XIII
> 
> Argument
> 
>      Still in the seventh circle, Dante enters its second compartment, which
> contains both those who have done violence on their own persons and those who
> have violently consumed their goods; the first changed into rough and knotted
> trees whereon the harpies build their nests, the latter chased and torn by
> black female mastiffs. Among the former, Piero delle Vigne is one who tells
> him the cause of his having committed suicide, and moreover in what manner the
> souls are transformed into those trunks. Of the latter crew, he recognizes
> Lano, a Siennese, and Giacomo, a Paduan; and lastly, a Florentine, who had
> hung himself from his own roof, speaks to him of the calamities of his
> countrymen.
> 
> Ere Nessus yet had reach'd the other bank,
> We enter'd on a forest, where no track
> Of steps had worn a way. Not verdant there
> The foliage, but of dusky hue; not light
> The boughs and tapering, but with knares deform'd
> And matted thick: fruits there were none, but thorns
> Instead, with venom fill'd. Less sharp than these,
> Less intricate the brakes, wherein abide
> Those animals, that hate the cultured fields,
> Betwixt Corneto and Cecina's stream.[1]
> 
> [1: A wild and woody tract, abounding in deer, goats, and wild boars.
> Cecina is a river not far to the south of Leghorn; Corneto, a small city on
> the same coast, in the patrimony of the Church.]
> 
> Here the brute harpies make their nest, the same
> Who from the Strophades the Trojan band
> Drove with dire boding o  their future woe.
> Broad are their pennons, of the human form
> Their neck and countenance, arm'd with talons keen
> The feet, and the huge belly fledged with wings.
> These sit and wail on the drear mystic wood.
> 
> The kind instructor in these words began:
> "Ere further thou proceed, know thou art now
> I' th' second round, and shalt be, till thou come
> Upon the horrid sand: look therefore well
> Around thee, and such things thou shalt behold,
> As would my speech discredit." On all sides
> I heard sad plainings breathe, and none could see
> From whom they might have issued. In amaze
> Fast bound I stood. He, as it seem'd, believed
> That I had thought so many voices came
> From some amid those thickets close conceal'd,
> And thus his speech resum'd: "If thou lop off
> A single twig from one of those ill plants,
> The thought thou hast conceived shall vanish quite."
> 
> Thereat a little stretching forth my hand,
> From a great wilding gather'd I a branch,
> And straight the trunk exclaim'd: "Why pluck'st thou me?"
> Then, as the dark blood trickled down its side,
> These words it added: "Wherefore tear'st me thus?
> Is there no touch of mercy in thy breast?
> Men once were we, that now are rooted here.
> Thy hand might well have spared us, had we been
> The souls of serpents." As a brand yet green,
> That burning at one end from the other sends
> A groaning sound, and hisses with the wind
> That forces out its way, so burst at once
> Forth from the broken splinter words and blood.
> 
> I, letting fall the bough, remain'd as one
> Assail'd by terror; and the sage replied:
> "If he, O injured spirit! could have believed
> What he hath seen but in my verse described,
> He never against thee had stretch'd his hand.
> But I, because the thing surpass'd belief,
> Prompted him to this deed, which even now
> Myself I rue. But tell me, who thou wast;
> That, for this wrong to do thee some amends,
> In the upper world (for thither to return
> Is granted him) thy fame he may revive."
> "That pleasant word of thine," the trunk replied,
> "Hath so inveigled me, that I from speech
> Cannot refrain, wherein if I indulge
> A little longer, in the snare detain'd,
> Count it not grievous. I it was,[2] who held
> Both keys to Frederick's heart, and turn'd the wards,
> Opening and shutting, with a skill so sweet,
> That besides me, into his inmost breast
> Scarce any other could admittance find.
> The faith I bore to my high charge was such,
> It cost me the life - blood that warm'd my veins.
> The harlot, who ne'er turn'd her gloating eyes
> From Caesar's household, common vice and pest
> Of courts, 'gainst me inflamed the minds of all;
> And to Augustus they so spread the flame,
> That my glad honours changed to bitter woes.
> My soul, disdainful and disgusted, sought
> Refuge in death from scorn, and I became,
> Just as I was, unjust toward myself.
> By the new roots, which fix this stem, I swear,
> That never faith I broke my liege lord,
> Who merited such honour; and of you,
> If any to the world indeed return,
> Clear he from wrong my memory, that lies
> Yet prostrate under envy's cruel blow."
> 
> [2: "I it was." Piero delle Vigne, a native of Capua, who from a low
> condition raised himself, by his eloquence and legal knowledge, to the office
> of Chancellor to the Emperor Frederick II. The courtiers, envious of his
> exalted situation, forged letters to make Frederick believe that he held a
> secret and traitorous intercourse with the Pope, who was then at enmity with
> the Emperor. He was cruelly condemned to lose his eyes. Driven to despair by
> his unmerited calamity he dashed out his brains against the walls of a church,
> in the year 1245.]
> 
> First somewhat pausing, till the mournful words
> Were ended, then to me the bard began:
> "Lose not the time; but speak, and of him ask,
> If more thou wish to learn." Whence I replied:
> "Question thou him again of whatsoe'er
> Will, as thou think'st, content me; for no power
> Have I to ask, such pity is at my heart."
> 
> He thus resumed: "So may he do for thee
> Freely what thou entreatest, as thou yet
> Be pleased, imprison'd spirit! to declare,
> How in these gnarled joints the soul is tied;
> And whether any ever from such frame
> Be loosen'd, if thou canst, that also tell."
> 
> Thereat the trunk breathed hard, and the wind soon
> Changed into sounds articulate like these:
> "Briefly ye shall be answer'd. When departs
> The fierce soul from the body, by itself
> Thence torn asunder, to the seventh gulf
> By Minos doom'd, into the wood it falls,
> No place assign'd, but wheresoever chance
> Hurls it; there sprouting, as a grain of spelt,
> It rises to a sapling, growing thence
> A savage plant. The harpies, on its leaves
> Then feeding, cause both pain, and for the pain
> A vent to grief. We, as the rest, shall come
> For our own spoils, yet not so that with them
> We may again be clad; for what a man
> Takes from himself it is not just he have.
> Here we perforce shall drag them; and throughout
> The dismal glade our bodies shall be hung,
> Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade."
> 
> Attentive yet to listen to the trunk
> We stood, expecting further speech, when us
> A noise surprised; as when a man perceives
> The wild boar and the hunt approach his place
> Of station'd watch, who of the beasts and boughs
> Loud rustling round him hears. And lo! there came
> Two naked, torn with briers, in headlong flight,
> That they before them broke each fan o' th' wood.
> "Haste now," the foremost cried, "now haste thee, death!"
> The other, as seem'd, impatient of delay,
> Exclaiming, "Lano![3] not so bent for speed
> Thy sinews, in the lists of Toppo's field."
> And then, for that perchance no longer breath
> Sufficed him, of himself and of a bush
> One group he made. Behind them was the wood
> Full of black female mastiffs, gaunt and fleet,
> As greyhounds that have newly slipt the leash.
> On him, who squatted down, they stuck their fangs,
> And having rent him piecemeal bore away
> The tortured limbs. My guide then seized my hand,
> And led me to the thicket, which in vain
> Mourn'd through its bleeding wounds: "O Giacomo
> Of Sant' Andrea![4] what avails it thee,"
> It cried, "that of me thou hast made thy screen?
> For thy ill life, what blame on me recoils?
> 
> [3: Lano, a Siennese, who being reduced by prodigality to a state of
> extreme want, found his existence no longer supportable; and having been sent
> by his countrymen on a military expedition to assist the Florentines against
> the Aretini, took that opportunity of exposing himself to certain death, in
> the engagement which took place at Toppo, near Arezzo. See G. Villani, Hist.
> lib. vii. c. cxix.]
> 
> [4: Jacopo da Sant' Andrea, a Paduan, who, having wasted his property
> in the most wanton acts of profusion, killed himself in despair.]
> 
> When o'er it he had paused, my master spake:
> "Say who wast thou, that at so many points
> Breathest out with blood thy lamentable speech?"
> 
> He answer'd: "O ye spirits! arrived in time
> To spy the shameful havoc that from me
> My leaves hath sever'd thus, gather them up,
> And at the foot of their sad parent - tree
> Carefully lay them. In that city[5] I dwelt,
> Who for the Baptist her first patron changed,
> Whence he for this shall cease not with his art
> To work her woe: and if there still remain'd not
> On Arno's passage some faint glimpse of him,
> Those citizens, who rear'd once more her walls
> Upon the ashes left by Attila,
> Had labor'd without profit of their toil.
> I slung the fatal noose[6] from my own roof."
> 
> [5: "_____ Florence, that city which changed her first patron Mars
> for St. John the Baptist."]
> 
> [6: "I slung the fatal noose." We are not informed who this suicide
> was; some calling him Rocco de' Mozzi, and others Lotto degli Agli.]
>
> — *Inferno Canto 13*