The Third Bolgia: the simoniacs—Pope Nicholas III .
O Simon Magus, O forlorn disciples, Ye who the things of God, which ought to be The brides of holiness, rapaciously For silver and for gold do prostitute, Now it behoves for you the trumpet sound, Because in this third Bolgia ye abide. We had already on the following tomb Ascended to that portion of the crag Which o’er the middle of the moat hangs plumb. Wisdom supreme, O how great art thou showest In heaven, in earth, and in the evil world, And with what justice doth thy power distribute! I saw upon the sides and on the bottom The livid stone with perforations filled, All of one size, and everyone was round. To me less ample seemed they not, nor greater Than those that in my beautiful Saint John Are fashioned for the place of the baptizers, And one of which, not many years ago, I broke for someone, who was drowning in it; Be this a seal all men to undeceive. Out of the mouth of each one there protruded The feet of a transgressor, and the legs Up to the calf, the rest within remained. In all of them the soles were both on fire; Wherefore the joints so violently quivered, They would have snapped asunder withes and bands. Even as the flame of unctuous things is wont To move upon the outer surface only, So likewise was it there from heel to point. “Master, who is that one who writhes himself, More than his other comrades quivering,” I said, “and whom a redder flame is sucking?” And he to me: “If thou wilt have me bear thee Down there along that bank which lowest lies, From him thou ’lt know his errors and himself.” And I: “What pleases thee, to me is pleasing; Thou art my Lord, and knowest that I depart not From thy desire, and knowest what is not spoken.” Straightway upon the fourth dike we arrived; We turned, and on the left-hand side descended Down to the bottom full of holes and narrow. And the good Master yet from off his haunch Deposed me not, till to the hole