# Inferno Canto  8

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-22 — 1 clipping.*

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> 
> Canto VIII
> 
> Argument And Canto VIII
> 
>      A signal having been made from the tower, Phlegyas, the ferryman of the
> lake, speedily crosses it, and conveys Virgil and Dante to the other side. On
> their passage, they meet with Filippo Argenti, whose fury and torment are
> described. They then arrive at the city of Dis, the entrance whereto is
> denied, and the portals closed against them by many Demons.
> 
> My theme pursuing, I relate, that ere
> We reach'd the lofty turret's base, our eyes
> Its height ascended, where we mark'd uphung
> Two cressets, and another saw from far
> Return the signal, so remote, that scarce
> The eye could catch its beam. I, turning round
> To the deep source of knowledge, thus inquired:
> "Say what this means; and what, that other light
> In answer set: what agency doth this?"
> 
> "There on the filthy waters," he replied,
> "E'en now what next awaits us mayst thou see,
> If the marsh - gendered fog conceal it not."
> 
> Never was arrow from the cord dismiss'd,
> That ran its way so nimbly through the air,
> As a small bark, that through the waves I spied
> Toward us coming, under the sole sway
> Of one that ferried it, who cried aloud:
> "Art thou arrived, fell spirit?" - "Phlegyas, Phlegyas,[1]
> This time thou criest in vain," my lord replied;
> "No longer shalt thou have us, but while o'er
> The slimy pool we pass." As one who hears
> Of some great wrong he hath sustain'd, whereat
> 
> [1: Phlegyas, so incensed against Apollo for having violated his
> daughter Coronis, that he set fire to the temple of that deity, by whose
> vengeance he was cast into Tartarus. See Virgil, Aeneas, 1. vi. 618.]
> 
> Inly he pines: so Phlegyas inly pined
> In his fierce ire. My guide, descending, stepp'd
> Into the skiff, and bade me enter next,
> Close at his side; nor, till my entrance, seem'd
> The vessel freighted. Soon as both embark'd,
> Cutting the waves, goes on the ancient prow,
> More deeply than with others it is wont.
> 
> While we our course o'er the dead channel held,
> One drench'd in mire before me came, and said:
> "Who art thou, that thus comest ere thine hour?"
> 
> I answer'd: "Though I come, I tarry not:
> But who art thou, that art become so foul?"
> 
> "One, as thou seest, who mourn:" he straight replied.
> 
> To which I thus: "In mourning and in woe,
> Curst spirit! tarry thou. I know thee well,
> E'en thus in filth disguised." Then stretch'd he forth
> Hands to the bark; whereof my teacher sage
> Aware, thrusting him back: "Away! down there
> To the other dogs!" then, with his arms my neck
> Encircling, kiss'd my cheek, and spake: "O soul,
> Justly disdainful! blest was she in whom
> Thou wast conceived. He in the world was one
> For arrogance noted: to his memory
> No virtue lends its lustre; even so
> Here is his shadow furious. There above,
> How many now hold themselves mighty kings,
> Who here like swine shall wallow in the mire,
> Leaving behind them horrible dispraise."
> 
> I then: "Master! him fain would I behold
> Whelm'd in these dregs, before we quit the lake."
> 
> He thus: "Or ever to thy view the shore
> Be offer'd, satisfied shall be that wish,
> Which well deserves completion." Scarce his words
> Were ended, when I saw the miry tribes
> Set on him with such violence, that yet
> For that render I thanks to God, and praise.
> "To Filippo Argenti!"[2] cried they all:
> 
> [2: Boccaccio tells us, "he was a man remarkable for the large
> proportions and extraordinary vigor of his bodily frame, and the extreme
> waywardness and irascibility of his temper." - "Decameron," G. ix. N. 8.]
> 
> And on himself the moody Florentine
> Turn'd his avenging fangs. Him here we left,
> Nor speak I of him more. But on mine ear
> Sudden a sound of lamentation smote,
> Whereat mine eye unbarr'd I sent abroad.
> 
> And thus the good instructor: "Now, my son
> Draws near the city, that of Dis is named,
> With its grave denizens, a mighty throng."
> 
> I thus: "The minarets already, Sir!
> There, certes, in the valley I descry,
> Gleaming vermilion, as if they from fire
> Had issued." He replied: "Eternal fire,
> That inward burns, shows them with ruddy flame
> Illumed; as in this nether Hell thou seest."
> 
> We came within the fosses deep, that moat
> This region comfortless. The walls appear'd
> As they were framed of iron. We had made
> Wide circuit, ere a place we reach'd, where loud
> The mariner cried vehement: "Go forth:
> The entrance is here." Upon the gates I spied
> More than a thousand, who of old from Heaven
> Were shower'd. With ireful gestures, "Who is this,"
> They cried, "that, without death first felt, goes through
> The regions of the dead?" My sapient guide
> Made sign that he for secret parley wish'd;
> Whereat their angry scorn abating, thus
> They spake: "Come thou alone; and let him go,
> Who hath so hardily enter'd this realm.
> Alone return he by his witless way;
> If well he knew it, let him prove. For thee,
> Here shalt thou tarry, who through clime so dark
> Hast been his escort." Now bethink thee, reader!
> What cheer was mine at sound of those curst words.
> I did believe I never should return.
> 
> "O my loved guide! who more than seven times[3]
> 
> [3: Seven times." The commentators, says Venturi, perplex themselves
> with the inquiry what seven perils these were from which Dante had been
> delivered by Virgil. Reckoning the beasts in the first Canto as one of them,
> and adding Charon, Minos, Cerberus, Plutus, Phlegyas, and Filippo Argenti, as
> so many others, we shall have the number; and if this be not satisfactory, we
> may suppose a determinate to have been put for an indeterminate number.]
> 
> Security hast render'd me, and drawn
> From peril deep, whereto I stood exposed,
> Desert me not," I cried, "in this extreme.
> And, if our onward going be denied,
> Together trace we back our steps with speed."
> 
> My liege, who thither had conducted me,
> Replied: "Fear not: for of our passage none
> Hath power to disappoint us, by such high
> Authority permitted. But do thou
> Expect me here; meanwhile, thy wearied spirit
> Comfort, and feed with kindly hope, assured
> I will not leave thee in this lower world."
> This said, departs the sire benevolent,
> And quits me. Hesitating I remain
> At war, 'twixt will and will not, in my thoughts.
> 
> I could not hear what terms he offer'd them,
> But they conferr'd not long, for all at once
> Pellmell rush'd back within. Closed were the gates,
> By those our adversaries, on the breast
> Of my liege lord: excluded, he return'd
> To me with tardy steps. Upon the ground
> His eyes were bent, and from his brow erased
> All confidence, while thus in sighs he spake:
> "Who hath denied me these abodes of woe?"
> Then thus to me: "That I am anger'd, think
> No ground of terror: in this trial I
> Shall vanquish, use what arts they may within
> For hindrance. This their insolence, not new,[4]
> Erewhile at gate less secret they display'd,
> Which still is without bolt; upon its arch
> Thou saw'st the deadly scroll: and even now,
> On this side of its entrance, down the steep,
> Passing the circles, unescorted, comes
> One whose strong might can open us this land."
> 
> [4: Virgil assures our poet that these evil spirits had formerly
> shown the same insolence when our Saviour descended into hell. They attempted
> to prevent him from entering at the gate, over which Dante had read the fatal
> inscription. "That gate which," says the Roman poet, "an angel had just
> passed, by whose aid we shall overcome this opposition, and gain admittance
> into the city."]
>
> — *Inferno Canto  8*