# Inferno Canto  5

*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 4  Next: Inferno Canto 6  
> 
> Canto V
> 
> Argument
> 
>      Coming into the second circle of Hell, Dante at the entrance beholds
> Minos the Infernal Judge, by whom he is admonished to beware how he enters
> those regions. Here he witnesses the punishment of carnal sinners, who are
> tossed about ceaselessly in the dark air by the most furious winds. Amont
> these, he meets with Francesca of Rimini, through pity at whose sad tale he
> falls fainting to the ground.
> 
> From the first circle I descended thus
> Down to the second, which, a lesser space
> Embracing, so much more of grief contains,
> Provoking bitter moans. There Minos stands,
> Grinning with ghastly feature: he, of all
> Who enter, strict examining the crimes,
> Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath,
> According as he foldeth him around:
> For when before him comes the ill - fated soul,
> It all confesses; and that judge severe
> Of sins, considering what place in Hell
> Suits the transgression, with his tail so oft
> Himself encircles, as degrees beneath
> He dooms it to descend. Before him stand
> Always a numerous throng; and in his turn
> Each one to judgment passing, speaks, and hears
> His fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl'd.
> "O thou! who to this residence of woe
> Approachest!" when he saw me coming, cried
> Minos, relinquishing his dread employ,
> "Look how thou enter here; beware in whom
> Thou place thy trust; let not the entrance broad
> Deceive thee to thy harm." To him my guide:
> "Wherefore exclaimest? Hinder not his way
> By destiny appointed; so 'tis will'd,
> Where will and power are one. Ask thou no more."
> 
> Now 'gin the rueful wailings to be heard.
> Now am I come where many a plaining voice
> Smites on mine ear. Into a place I came
> Where light was silent all. Bellowing there groan'd
> A noise, as of a sea in tempest torn
> By warring winds. The stormy blast of Hell
> With restless fury drives the spirits on,
> Whirl'd round and dash'd amain with sore annoy.
> When they arrive before the ruinous sweep,
> There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans,
> And blasphemies 'gainst the good Power in Heaven.
> I understood, that to this torment sad
> The carnal sinners are condemn'd, in whom
> Reason by lust is sway'd. As, in large troops
> And multitudinous, when winter reigns,
> The starlings on their wings are borne abroad;
> So bears the tyrannous gust those evil souls.
> On this side and on that, above, below,
> It drives them: hope of rest to solace them
> Is none, nor e'en of milder pang. As cranes,
> Chanting their dolorous notes, traverse the sky,
> Stretch'd out in long array; so I beheld
> Spirits, who came loud wailing, hurried on
> By their dire doom. Then I: "Instructor! who
> Are these, by the black air so scourged?" "The first
> 'Mong those, of whom thou question'st," he replied,
> "O'er many tongues was empress. She in vice
> Of luxury was so shameless, that she made
> Liking be lawful by promulged decree,
> To clear the blame she had herself incurr'd.
> This is Semiramis, of whom 'tis writ,
> That she succeeded Ninus her espoused;
> And held the land, which now the Soldan rules.
> The next in amorous fury slew herself,
> And to Sichaeus' ashes broke her faith:
> Then follows Cleopatra, lustful queen."
> 
> There mark'd I Helen, for whose sake so long
> The time was fraught with evil; there the great
> Achilles, who with love fought to the end.
> Paris I saw, and Tristan; and beside,
> A thousand more he show'd me, and by name
> Pointed them out, whom love bereaved of life.
> 
> When I had heard my sage instructor name
> Those dames and knights of antique days, o'erpower'd
> By pity, well - nigh in amaze my mind
> Was lost; and I began: "Bard! willingly
> I would address those two together coming,
> Which seem so light before the wind." He thus:
> "Note thou, when nearer they to us approach.
> Then by that love which carries them along,
> Entreat; and they will come." Soon as the wind
> Sway'd them towards us, I thus framed my speech:
> "O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourse
> With us, if by none else restrain'd. As doves
> By fond desire invited, on wide wings
> And firm, to their sweet nest returning home,
> Cleave the air, wafted by their will along;
> Thus issued, from that troop where Dido ranks,
> They, through the ill air speeding: with such force
> My cry prevail'd, by strong affection urged.
> 
> "O gracious creature and benign! who go'st
> Visiting, through this element obscure,
> Us, who the world with bloody stain imbrued;
> If, for a friend, the King of all, we own'd,
> Our prayer to him should for thy peace arise,
> Since thou hast pity on our evil plight.
> Of whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse
> It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that
> Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind,
> As now, is mute. The land,[1] that gave me birth,
> Is situate on the coast, where Po descends
> To rest in ocean with his sequent streams.
> 
> [1: "The land." Ravenna.]
> 
> "Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt,
> Entangled him by that fair form, from me
> Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still:
> Love, that denial takes from none beloved,
> Caught me with pleasing him so passing well,
> That, as thou seest, he yet deserts me not.
> Love brought us to one death: Caina[2] waits
> The soul, who spilt our life." Such were their words;
> At hearing which, downward I bent my looks,
> And held them there so long, that the bard cried:
> "What art thou pondering?" I in answer thus:
> "Alas! by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire
> Must they at length to that ill pass have reach'd!"
> Then turning, I to them my speech address'd,
> 
> [2: "Caina." The place to which murderers are doomed.]
> 
> And thus began: "Francesca![3] your sad fate
> Even to tears my grief and pity moves.
> But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs,
> By what, and how Love granted, that ye knew
> Your yet uncertain wishes?" She replied:
> "No greater grief than to remember days
> Of joy, when misery is at hand. That kens
> Thy learn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly
> If thou art bent to know the primal root,
> From whence our love gat being, I will do
> As one, who weeps and tells his tale. One day,
> For our delight we read of Lancelot,[4]
> How him love thrall'd. Alone we were, and no
> Suspicion near us. Oft - times by that reading
> Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue
> Fled from our alter'd cheek. But at one point
> Alone we fell. When of that smile we read,
> The wished smile so raptorously kiss'd
> By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er
> From me shall separate, at once my lips
> All trembling kiss'd. The book and writer both
> Were love's purveyors. In its leaves that day
> We read no more." While thus one spirit spake,
> The other wail'd so sorely, that heart - struck
> I, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far
> From death, and like a corse fell to the ground.
> 
> [3: "Francesca." Francesca, the daughter of Guido da Polenta, Lord of
> Ravenna, was given by her father in marriage to Gianciotto, son of Malatesta,
> Lord of Rimini, a man of extraordinary courage, but deformed in his person.
> His brother Paolo, who unhappily possessed those graces which the husband of
> Francesca wanted, engaged her affections; and being taken in adultery, they
> were both put to death by the enraged Gianciotto.]
> 
> [4: "Lancelot." One of the Knights of the Round Table, and the lover
> of Ginevra, or Guinever, celebrated in romance. The incident alluded to seems
> to have made a strong impression on the imagination of Dante, who introduces
> it again, in the Paradise, Canto xvi.]
>
> — *Inferno Canto  5*