Then tenderly he caught me by the hand;
“Yet know,” said he, “ere farther we advance,
That it less strange may seem, these are not towers,
But giants.  In the pit they stand immers’d,
Each from his navel downward, round the bank.”

As when a fog disperseth gradually,
Our vision traces what the mist involves
Condens’d in air; so piercing through the gross
And gloomy atmosphere, as more and more
We near’d toward the brink, mine error fled,
And fear came o’er me.  As with circling round
Of turrets, Montereggion crowns his walls,
E’en thus the shore, encompassing th’ abyss,
Was turreted with giants, half their length
Uprearing, horrible, whom Jove from heav’n
Yet threatens, when his mutt’ring thunder rolls.

Of one already I descried the face,
Shoulders, and breast, and of the belly huge
Great part, and both arms down along his ribs.

All-teeming nature, when her plastic hand
Left framing of these monsters, did display
Past doubt her wisdom, taking from mad War
Such slaves to do his bidding; and if she
Repent her not of th’ elephant and whale,
Who ponders well confesses her therein
Wiser and more discreet; for when brute force
And evil will are back’d with subtlety,
Resistance none avails.  His visage seem’d
In length and bulk, as doth the pine, that tops
Saint Peter’s Roman fane; and th’ other bones
Of like proportion, so that from above
The bank, which girdled him below, such height
Arose his stature, that three Friezelanders
Had striv’n in vain to reach but to his hair. 
Full thirty ample palms was he expos’d
Downward from whence a man his garments loops. 
“Raphel bai ameth sabi almi,”
So shouted his fierce lips, which sweeter hymns
Became not; and my guide address’d him thus: 

“O senseless spirit! let thy horn for thee
Interpret:  therewith vent thy rage, if rage
Or other passion wring thee.  Search thy neck,
There shalt thou find the belt that binds it on. 
Wild spirit! lo, upon thy mighty breast
Where hangs the baldrick!” Then to me he spake: 
“He doth accuse himself.  Nimrod is this,
Through whose ill counsel in the world no more
One tongue prevails.  But pass we on, nor waste
Our words; for so each language is to him,
As his to others, understood by none.”

Then to the leftward turning sped we forth,
And at a sling’s throw found another shade
Far fiercer and more huge.  I cannot say
What master hand had girt him; but he held
Behind the right arm fetter’d, and before
The other with a chain, that fasten’d him
From the neck down, and five times round his form
Apparent met the wreathed links.  “This proud one
Would of his strength against almighty Jove
Make trial,” said my guide; “whence he is thus
Requited:  Ephialtes him they call.