Be shown the gloomy vale, thereto induc’d
By strict necessity, not by delight. 
She left her joyful harpings in the sky,
Who this new office to my care consign’d. 
He is no robber, no dark spirit I.
But by that virtue, which empowers my step
To treat so wild a path, grant us, I pray,
One of thy band, whom we may trust secure,
Who to the ford may lead us, and convey
Across, him mounted on his back; for he
Is not a spirit that may walk the air.” 
     Then on his right breast turning, Chiron thus
To Nessus spake:  “Return, and be their guide. 
And if ye chance to cross another troop,
Command them keep aloof.”  Onward we mov’d,
The faithful escort by our side, along
The border of the crimson-seething flood,
Whence from those steep’d within loud shrieks arose. 
     Some there I mark’d, as high as to their brow
Immers’d, of whom the mighty Centaur thus: 
“These are the souls of tyrants, who were given
To blood and rapine.  Here they wail aloud
Their merciless wrongs.  Here Alexander dwells,
And Dionysius fell, who many a year
Of woe wrought for fair Sicily.  That brow
Whereon the hair so jetty clust’ring hangs,
Is Azzolino; that with flaxen locks
Obizzo’ of Este, in the world destroy’d
By his foul step-son.”  To the bard rever’d
I turned me round, and thus he spake; “Let him
Be to thee now first leader, me but next
To him in rank.”  Then farther on a space
The Centaur paus’d, near some, who at the throat
Were extant from the wave; and showing us
A spirit by itself apart retir’d,
Exclaim’d:  “He in God’s bosom smote the heart,
Which yet is honour’d on the bank of Thames.” 
     A race I next espied, who held the head,
And even all the bust above the stream. 
’Midst these I many a face remember’d well. 
Thus shallow more and more the blood became,
So that at last it but imbru’d the feet;
And there our passage lay athwart the foss. 
     “As ever on this side the boiling wave
Thou seest diminishing,” the Centaur said,
“So on the other, be thou well assur’d,
It lower still and lower sinks its bed,
Till in that part it reuniting join,
Where ’t is the lot of tyranny to mourn. 
There Heav’n’s stern justice lays chastising hand
On Attila, who was the scourge of earth,
On Sextus, and on Pyrrhus, and extracts
Tears ever by the seething flood unlock’d
From the Rinieri, of Corneto this,
Pazzo the other nam’d, who fill’d the ways
With violence and war.”  This said, he turn’d,
And quitting us, alone repass’d the ford.

CANTO XIII