Then said another:  “Ah! so may the wish,
That takes thee o’er the mountain, be fulfill’d,
As thou shalt graciously give aid to mine. 
Of Montefeltro I; Buonconte I: 
Giovanna nor none else have care for me,
Sorrowing with these I therefore go.”  I thus: 
“From Campaldino’s field what force or chance
Drew thee, that ne’er thy sepulture was known?”

“Oh!” answer’d he, “at Casentino’s foot
A stream there courseth, nam’d Archiano, sprung
In Apennine above the Hermit’s seat. 
E’en where its name is cancel’d, there came I,
Pierc’d in the heart, fleeing away on foot,
And bloodying the plain.  Here sight and speech
Fail’d me, and finishing with Mary’s name
I fell, and tenantless my flesh remain’d. 
I will report the truth; which thou again
Tell to the living.  Me God’s angel took,
Whilst he of hell exclaim’d:  “O thou from heav’n! 
Say wherefore hast thou robb’d me?  Thou of him
Th’ eternal portion bear’st with thee away
For one poor tear that he deprives me of. 
But of the other, other rule I make.”

“Thou knowest how in the atmosphere collects
That vapour dank, returning into water,
Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it. 
That evil will, which in his intellect
Still follows evil, came, and rais’d the wind
And smoky mist, by virtue of the power
Given by his nature.  Thence the valley, soon
As day was spent, he cover’d o’er with cloud
From Pratomagno to the mountain range,
And stretch’d the sky above, so that the air
Impregnate chang’d to water.  Fell the rain,
And to the fosses came all that the land
Contain’d not; and, as mightiest streams are wont,
To the great river with such headlong sweep
Rush’d, that nought stay’d its course.  My stiffen’d frame
Laid at his mouth the fell Archiano found,
And dash’d it into Arno, from my breast
Loos’ning the cross, that of myself I made
When overcome with pain.  He hurl’d me on,
Along the banks and bottom of his course;
Then in his muddy spoils encircling wrapt.”

“Ah! when thou to the world shalt be return’d,
And rested after thy long road,” so spake
Next the third spirit; “then remember me. 
I once was Pia.  Sienna gave me life,
Maremma took it from me.  That he knows,
Who me with jewell’d ring had first espous’d.”

CANTO VI

When from their game of dice men separate,
He, who hath lost, remains in sadness fix’d,
Revolving in his mind, what luckless throws
He cast:  but meanwhile all the company
Go with the other; one before him runs,
And one behind his mantle twitches, one
Fast by his side bids him remember him. 
He stops not; and each one, to whom his hand
Is stretch’d, well knows he bids him stand aside;
And thus he from the press defends himself. 
E’en such was I in that close-crowding throng;
And turning so my face around to all,
And promising, I ’scap’d from it with pains.