Dante’s dream of the Siren—The Fifth Circle—The Avaricious and Prodigal—Pope Adrian V .
It was the hour when the diurnal heat No more can warm the coldness of the moon, Vanquished by earth, or peradventure Saturn, When geomancers their Fortuna Major See in the orient before the dawn Rise by a path that long remains not dim, There came to me in dreams a stammering woman, Squint in her eyes, and in her feet distorted, With hands dissevered and of sallow hue. I looked at her; and as the sun restores The frigid members which the night benumbs, Even thus my gaze did render voluble Her tongue, and made her all erect thereafter In little while, and the lost countenance As love desires it so in her did color. When in this wise she had her speech unloosed, She ’gan to sing so, that with difficulty Could I have turned my thoughts away from her. “I am,” she sang, “I am the Siren sweet Who mariners amid the main unman, So full am I of pleasantness to hear. I drew Ulysses from his wandering way Unto my song, and he who dwells with me Seldom departs so wholly I content him.” Her mouth was not yet closed again, before Appeared a Lady saintly and alert Close at my side to put her to confusion. “Virgilius, O Virgilius! who is this?” Sternly she said; and he was drawing near With eyes still fixed upon that modest one. She seized the other and in front laid open, Rending her garments, and her belly showed me; This waked me with the stench that issued from it. I turned mine eyes, and good Virgilius said: “At least thrice have I called thee; rise and come; Find we the opening by which thou mayst enter.” I rose; and full already of high day Were all the circles of the Sacred Mountain, And with the new sun at our back we went. Following behind him, I my forehead bore Like unto one who has it laden with thought, Who makes himself the half arch of a bridge, When I heard say, “Come, here the passage is,” Spoken