Ah! what fierce cruelty his look bespake! 
In act how bitter did he seem, with wings
Buoyant outstretch’d and feet of nimblest tread! 
His shoulder proudly eminent and sharp
Was with a sinner charg’d; by either haunch
He held him, the foot’s sinew griping fast. 
     “Ye of our bridge!” he cried, “keen-talon’d fiends! 
Lo! one of Santa Zita’s elders!  Him
Whelm ye beneath, while I return for more. 
That land hath store of such.  All men are there,
Except Bonturo, barterers:  of ‘no’
For lucre there an ‘aye’ is quickly made.” 
     Him dashing down, o’er the rough rock he turn’d,
Nor ever after thief a mastiff loos’d
Sped with like eager haste.  That other sank
And forthwith writing to the surface rose. 
But those dark demons, shrouded by the bridge,
Cried “Here the hallow’d visage saves not:  here
Is other swimming than in Serchio’s wave. 
Wherefore if thou desire we rend thee not,
Take heed thou mount not o’er the pitch.”  This said,
They grappled him with more than hundred hooks,
And shouted:  “Cover’d thou must sport thee here;
So, if thou canst, in secret mayst thou filch.” 
E’en thus the cook bestirs him, with his grooms,
To thrust the flesh into the caldron down
With flesh-hooks, that it float not on the top. 
     Me then my guide bespake:  “Lest they descry,
That thou art here, behind a craggy rock
Bend low and screen thee; and whate’er of force
Be offer’d me, or insult, fear thou not: 
For I am well advis’d, who have been erst
In the like fray.”  Beyond the bridge’s head
Therewith he pass’d, and reaching the sixth pier,
Behov’d him then a forehead terror-proof. 
     With storm and fury, as when dogs rush forth
Upon the poor man’s back, who suddenly
From whence he standeth makes his suit; so rush’d
Those from beneath the arch, and against him
Their weapons all they pointed.  He aloud: 
“Be none of you outrageous:  ere your time
Dare seize me, come forth from amongst you one,
Who having heard my words, decide he then
If he shall tear these limbs.”  They shouted loud,
“Go, Malacoda!” Whereat one advanc’d,
The others standing firm, and as he came,
“What may this turn avail him?” he exclaim’d. 
     “Believ’st thou, Malacoda!  I had come
Thus far from all your skirmishing secure,”
My teacher answered, “without will divine
And destiny propitious?  Pass we then
For so Heaven’s pleasure is, that I should lead
Another through this savage wilderness.” 
     Forthwith so fell his pride, that he let drop
The instrument of torture at his feet,
And to the rest exclaim’d:  “We have no power
To strike him.”  Then to me my guide:  “O thou! 
Who on the bridge among the crags dost sit
Low crouching, safely now to me return.” 
     I rose, and towards him moved with speed:  the fiends
Meantime all forward drew:  me terror seiz’d