Canto XXV

what now shall be shot forth. Be silent Ovid, of Cadmus and Arethusa; For if him to a snake, her to fountain, Converts he fabling, that I grudge him not; Because two natures never front to front Has he transmuted, so that both the forms To interchange their matter ready were. Together they responded in such wise, That to a fork the serpent cleft his tail, And eke the wounded drew his feet together. The legs together with the thighs themselves Adhered so, that in little time the juncture No sign whatever made that was apparent. He with the cloven tail assumed the figure The other one was losing, and his skin Became elastic, and the other’s hard. I saw the arms draw inward at the armpits, And both feet of the reptile, that were short, Lengthen as much as those contracted were. Thereafter the hind feet, together twisted, Became the member that a man conceals, And of his own the wretch had two created. While both of them the exhalation veils With a new color, and engenders hair On one of them and depilates the other, The one uprose and down the other fell, Though turning not away their impious lamps, Underneath which each one his muzzle changed. He who was standing drew it tow’rds the temples, And from excess of matter, which came thither, Issued the ears from out the hollow cheeks; What did not backward run and was retained Of that excess made to the face a nose, And the lips thickened far as was befitting. He who lay prostrate thrusts his muzzle forward, And backward draws the ears into his head, In the same manner as the snail its horns; And so the tongue, which was entire and apt For speech before, is cleft, and the bi-forked In the other closes up, and the smoke ceases. The soul, which to a reptile had been changed, Along the valley hissing takes to flight, And after him the other speaking sputters. Then did he turn upon him his new shoulders, And said to the other: “I’ll have Buoso run, Crawling as I have done, along this road.” In this way I beheld the seventh ballast Shift and reshift, and here be my excuse The novelty, if aught my pen transgress. And notwithstanding that mine eyes might be Somewhat bewildered, and my mind dismayed, They could not flee away so secretly But that I plainly saw Puccio