# Inferno Canto 25

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-20 — 1 clipping.*

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> 
> Canto XXV
> 
> Argument
> 
>      The sacrilegious Fucci vents his fury in blasphemy, is seized by
> serpents, and flying is pursued by Cacus in the form of a Centaur, who is
> described with a swarm of serpents on his haunch, and a dragon on his
> shoulders breathing forth fire. Our Poet then meets with the spirits of three
> of his countrymen, two of whom undergo a marvelous transformation in his
> presence.
> 
> When he had spoke, the sinner raised his hands[1]
> Pointed in mockery and cried" "Take them,
> God!
> I level them at thee." From that day forth
> The serpents were my friends; for round his neck
> One of them rolling twisted, as it said,
> "Be silent, tongue!" Another, to his arms
> Upgliding, tied them, riveting itself
> So close, it took from them the power to move.
> 
> [1: "The practice of thrusting out the thumb between the first and
> second fingers, to express the feelings of insult and contempt, has prevailed
> very generally among the nations of Europe, and for many ages had been
> denominated 'making the fig,' or described at least by some equivalent
> expression." - Douce's "Illustrations of Shakespeare," vol. i. p. 492, ed.
> 1807.]
> 
> Pistoia! ah, Pistoia! why dost doubt
> To turn thee into ashes, cumbering earth
> No longer, since in evil act so far
> Thou hast outdone thy seed? I did not mark,
> Through all the gloomy circles of the abyss,
> Spirit, that swell'd so proudly' gainst his God;
> 
> Not him,[2] who headlong fell from Thebes. He fled,
> Nor utter'd more; and after him there came
> A Centaur full of fury, shouting, "Where,
> Where is the caitiff?" On Maremma's marsh[3]
> Swarm not the serpent tribe, as on his haunch
> They swarm'd, to where the human face begins.
> Behind his head, upon the shoulders, lay
> With open wings a dragon, breathing fire
> On whomsoe'er he met. To me my guide:
> "Cacus is this, who underneath the rock
> Of Aventine spread oft a lake of blood.
> He, from his brethren parted, here must tread
> A different journey, for his fraudful theft
> Of the great herd that near him stall'd; whence found
> His felon deeds their end, beneath the mace
> Of stout Alcides, that perchance laid on
> A hundred blows, and not the tenth was felt."
> 
> [2: Capaneus. Canto xiv.]
> 
> [3: Near the Tuscan shore.]
> 
> While yet he spake, the Centaur sped away:
> And under us three spirits came, of whom
> Nor I nor he was ware, till they exclaim'd,
> "Say who are ye!" We then brake off discourse,
> Intent on these alone. I knew them not:
> But, as it chanceth oft, befell that one
> Had need to name another. "Where," said he,
> "Doth Cianfa[4] lurk?" I, for a sign my guide
> Should stand attentive, placed against my lips
> The finger lifted. If, O reader! now
> Thou be not apt to credit what I tell,
> No marvel; for myself do scarce allow
> The witness of mine eyes. But as I look'd
> Toward them, lo! a serpent with six feet
> Springs forth on one, and fastens full upon him:
> His midmost grasp'd the belly, a forefoot
> Seized on each arm (while deep in either cheek
> He flesh'd his fangs); the hinder on the thighs
> Were spread, 'twixt which the tail inserted curl'd
> Upon the reins behind. Ivy ne'er clasp'd
> A dodder'd oak, as round the other's limbs
> 
> [4: Said to have been of the family of Donati at Florence.]
> 
> The hideous monster intertwined his own.
> Then, as they both had been of burning wax,
> Each melted into other, mingling hues,
> That which was either now was seen no more.
> Thus up the shrinking paper, ere it burns,
> A brown tint glides, not turning yet to black,
> And the clean white expires. The other two
> Look'd on exclaiming, "Ah! how dost thou change,
> Agnello![5] See! Thou art nor double now,
> Nor only one." The two heads now became
> One, and two figures blended in one form
> Appear'd, where both were lost. Of the four lengths
> Two arms were made: the belly and the chest,
> The thighs and legs, into such members changed
> As never eye hath seen. Of former shape
> All trace was vanish'd. Two, yet neither, seem'd
> That image miscreate, and so pass'd on
> With tardy steps. As underneath the scourge
> Of the fierce dog - star that lays bare the fields,
> Shifting from brake to brake the lizard seems
> A flash of lightning, if he thwart the road;
> So toward the entrails of the other two
> Approaching seem'd an adder all on fire,
> As the dark pepper - grain livid and swart.
> In that part, whence our life is nourish'd first,
> Once he transpierced; then down before him fell
> Stretch'd out. The pierced spirit look'd on him,
> But spake not; yea, stood motionless and yawn'd,
> As if by sleep or feverous fit assail'd.
> He eyed the serpent, and the serpent him.
> One from the wound, the other from the mouth
> Breathed a thick smoke, whose vapory columns join'd.
> 
> [5: "Agnello." Agnello Brunelleschi.]
> 
> Lucan in mute attention now may hear,
> Nor thy disastrous fate, Sabellus, tell,
> Nor thine, Nasidius. Ovid now be mute.
> What if in warbling fiction he record
> Cadmus and Arethusa, to a snake
> Him changed, and her into a fountain clear,
> I envy not; for never face to face
> 
> Two natures thus transmuted did he sing,
> Wherein both shapes were ready to assume
> The other's substance. They in mutual guise
> So answer'd that the serpent split his train
> Divided to a fork, and the pierced spirit
> Drew close his steps together, legs and thighs
> Compacted, that no sign of juncture soon
> Was visible: the tail, disparted, took
> The figure which the spirit lost; its skin
> Softening, his indurated to a rind.
> The shoulders next I mark'd, that entering join'd
> The monster's arm - pits, whose two shorter feet
> So lengthen'd, as the others dwindling shrunk.
> The feet behind then twisting up became
> That part that man conceals, which in the wretch
> Was cleft in twain. While both the shadowy smoke
> With a new color veils, and generates
> The excrescent pile on one, peeling it off
> From the other body, lo! upon his feet
> One upright rose, and prone the other fell.
> Nor yet their glaring and malignant lamps
> Were shifted, though each feature changed beneath.
> Of him who stood erect, the mounting face
> Retreated toward the temples, and what there
> Superfluous matter came, shot out in ears
> From the smooth cheeks; the rest, not backward dragg'd,
> Of its excess did shape the nose; and swell'd
> Into due size protuberant the lips.
> He, on the earth who lay, meanwhile extends
> His sharpen'd visage, and draws down the ears
> Into the head, as doth the slug his horns.
> His tongue, continuous before and apt
> For utterance, severs; and the other's fork
> Closing unites. That done, the smoke was laid.
> The soul, transform'd into the brute, glides off,
> Hissing along the vale, and after him
> The other talking sputters; but soon turn'd
> His new - grown shoulders on him, and in few
> Thus to another spake: "Along this path
> Crawling, as I have done, speed Buoso now!"
> 
> So saw I fluctuate in successive change
> The unsteady ballast of the seventh hold:
> And here if aught my pen have swerved, events
> So strange may be its warrant. O'er mine eyes
> Confusion hung, and on my thoughts amaze.
> 
> Yet 'scaped they not so covertly, but well
> I mark'd Sciancato: he alone it was
> Of the three first that came, who changed not: tho'
> The other's fate, Gaville! still dost rue.
>
> — *Inferno Canto 25*