# Inferno Canto  7

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-19 — 1 clipping.*

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> Christianity Index  Divine Comedy Index  Previous: Inferno Canto 6  Next: Inferno Canto 8  
> 
> Canto VII
> 
> Argument
> 
>      In the present Canto, Dante describes his descent into the fourth circle,
> at the beginning of which he sees Plutus stationed. Here one like doom awaits
> the prodigal and thenavaricious; which is, to meet in direful conflict,
> rolling great weights against each other with mutual upbraidings. From hence
> Virgil takes occasion to show how vain the goods that are committed into the
> charge of Fortune; and this moves our author to inquire what being that
> Fortune is, of whom he speaks: which question being resolved, they go down
> into the fifth circle, where they find the wrathful and gloomy tormented in
> the Stygian lake. Having made a compass round great part of this lake, they
> come at last to the base of a lofty tower.
> 
> "Ah me! O Satan! Satan!"[1] loud exclaim'd
> Plutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm:
> And the kind sage, whom no event surprised,
> To comfort me thus spake: "Let not thy fear
> Harm thee, for power in him, be sure, is none
> 
> [1: "Pape Satan, Pape Satan, aleppe;" words without meaning.]
> 
> To hinder down this rock thy safe descent."
> Then to that swoln lip turning, "Peace!" he cried,
> "Curst wolf! thy fury inward on thyself
> Prey, and consume thee! Through the dark profound,
> Not without cause, he passes. So 'tis will'd
> On high, there where the great Archangel pour'd
> Heaven's vengeance on the first adulterer proud."
> 
> As sails, full spread and bellying with the wind,
> Drop suddenly collapsed, if the mast split;
> So to the ground down dropp'd the cruel fiend.
> 
> Thus we, descending to the fourth steep ledge,
> Gain'd on the dismal shore, that all the woe
> Hems in of all the universe. Ah me!
> Almighty Justice! in what store thou heap'st
> New pains, new troubles, as I here beheld.
> Wherefore doth fault of ours bring us to this?
> 
> E'en as a billow, on Charybdis rising,
> Against encounter'd billow dashing breaks;
> Such is the dance this wretched race must lead,
> Whom more than elsewhere numerous here I found.
> From one side and the other, with loud voice,
> Both roll'd on weights, by main force of their breasts,
> Then smote together, and each one forthwith
> Roll'd them back voluble, turning again;
> Exclaiming these, "Why holdest thou so fast?"
> Those answering, "And why castest thou away?"
> So, still repeating their despiteful song,
> They to the opposite point, on either hand,
> Traversed the horrid circle; then arrived,
> Both turn'd them round, and through the middle space,
> Conflicting met again. At sight whereof
> I, stung with grief, thus spake: "O say, my guide!
> What race is this. Were these, whose heads are shorn,
> On our left hand, all separate to the Church?"
> 
> He straight replied: "In their first life, these all
> In mind were so distorted, that they made,
> According to due measure, of their wealth
> No use. This clearly from their words collect,
> Which they howl forth, at each extremity
> Arriving of the circle, where their crime
> Contrary in kind disparts them. To the Church
> Were separate those, that with no hairy cowls
> Are crowned, both Popes and Cardinals, o'er whom
> Avarice dominion absolute maintains."
> 
> I then: "'Mid such as these some needs must be,
> Whom I shall recognize, th t with the blot
> Of these foul sins were stain'd." He answering thus:
> "Vain thought conceivest thou. That ignoble life,
> Which made them vile before, now makes them dark,
> And to all knowledge indiscernible.
> For ever they shall meet in this rude shock:
> These from the tomb with clenched grasp shall rise,
> Those with close - shaven locks. That ill they gave,
> And ill they kept, hath of the beauteous world
> Deprived, and set them at this strife, which needs
> No labor'd phrase of mine to set it off.
> Now mayst thou see, my son! how brief, how vain,
> The goods committed into Fortune's hands,
> For which the human race keep such a coil!
> Not all the gold that is beneath the moon,
> Or ever hath been, of these toil - worn souls
> Might purchase rest for one." I thus rejoin'd:
> "My guide! of these this also would I learn;
> This Fortune, that thou speak'st of, what it is,
> Whose talons grasp the blessings of the world."
> 
> He thus: "O beings blind! what ignorance
> Besets you! Now my judgment hear and mark.
> He, whose transcendent wisdom passes all,
> The heavens creating, gave them ruling powers
> To guide them; so that each part shines to each,
> Their light in equal distribution pour'd.
> By similar appointment he ordain'd,
> Over the world's bright images to rule,
> Superintendence of a guiding hand
> And general minister, which, at due time,
> May change the empty vantages of life
> From race to race, from one to other's blood,
> Beyond prevention of man's wisest care:
> Wherefore one nation rises into sway,
> Another languishes, e'en as her will
> Decrees, from us conceal'd, as in the grass
> The serpent train. Against her nought avails
> Your utmost wisdom. She with foresight plans,
> Judges, and carries on her reign, as theirs
> The other powers divine. Her changes know
> None intermission: by necessity
> She is made swift, so frequent come who claim
> Succession in her favors. This is she,
> So execrated e'en by those whose debt
> To her is rather praise: they wrongfully
> With blame requite her, and with evil word;
> But she is blessed, and for that recks not:
> Amidst the other primal beings glad
> Rolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults.
> Now on our way pass we, to heavier woe
> Descending: for each star is falling now,
> That mounted at our entrance, and forbids
> Too long our tarrying." We the circle cross'd
> To the next steep, arriving at a well,
> That boiling pours itself down to a foss
> Sluiced from its source. Far murkier was the wave
> Than sablest grain: and we in company
> Of the inky waters, journeying by their side,
> Enter'd, though by a different track, beneath.
> Into a lake, the Stygian named, expands
> The dismal stream, when it hath reach'd the foot
> Of the gray wither'd cliffs. Intent I stood
> To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried
> A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks
> Betokening rage. They with their hands alone
> Struck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet,
> Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs.
> 
> The good instructor spake: "Now seest thou, son!
> The souls of those, whom anger overcame.
> This too for certain know, that underneath
> The water dwells a multitude, whose sighs
> Into these bubbles make the surface heave,
> As thine eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turn.
> Fix'd in the slime, they say: 'Sad once were we,
> In the sweet air made gladsome by the sun,
> Carrying a foul and lazy mist within:
> Now in these murky settlings are we sad.'
> Such dolorous strain they gurgle in their throats,
> But word distinct can utter none." Our route
> Thus compass'd we, a segment widely stretch'd
> Between the dry embankment, and the core
> Of the loath'd pool, turning meanwhile our eyes
> Downward on those who gulp'd its muddy lees;
> Nor stopp'd, till to a tower's low base we came.
>
> — *Inferno Canto  7*