INFERNO, Episode 165. Tiptoeing Around The Tyrants Of Romagna: Inferno, Canto XXVII, Lines 31 - 57

Guido da Montefeltro is trapped in a tongue of fire in the eighth of the malebolge (evil pouches) that make up the eighth circle of hell, the landscape of fraud. But rather than bemoan his fate, he wants to know the fate of his beloved Romagna, where he was a mercenary for years.

Join me, Mark Scarbrough, as we look over this elliptical and opaque passage, the pilgrim's response to Guido's question of whether his home is at war or peace these days.

Here are the segments of this episode of WALKING WITH DANTE:

[02:57] My English translation of the passage: Inferno, Canto XXVII, lines 31 - 57. If you''d like to read along or drop a comment, please do so on my website, markscarbrough.com.

[05:16] The pilgrim's eager desire is still intact toward the figures in the eighth evil pouch of fraud.

[06:32] Two nice details in the opening tercet (or three-line stanza).

[09:08] The big word for this passage: "tyrants."

[11:03] Rationales for the opaque and elliptical complications in Dante the pilgrim's response.

[14:34] The fate of seven cities in Romagna. The peace in 1) Ravenna and 2) Cervia, thanks to the Polenta family.

[17:06] The bloodbath of 3) Forlí (and the victory of Guido da Montefeltro) in the late 1200s.

[18:48] The defeat of the Ghibellines in 4) Rimini in the late 1200s.

[21:58] The fates of 5) Faenza and 6) Imola in 1300.

[24:23] The uneasy freedom in 7) Cesena in 1300.

[25:46] Dante is careful to give this history lesson as of 1300, the date of the action (but not the writing) of the poem.

[28:08] After all this bloody political history, Dante appeals to Guido's personal vanity.

[30:11] Reading the passage once again, all the way back to the start of Canto XXVII.

And here is my English translation of Inferno, Canto XXVII, Lines 31 – 57

 

I was still so intent to hear what he said, so bent over toward him,

That my guide gave me a poke in the side

And said, “Talk away—this one’s Italian.”

 

And I, who already had an answer set to go,

Without any delay, started in by saying,

“O spirit, who’s concealed down in there,

 

“Your Romagna is not, nor has it ever been,

Without war down in the hearts of its tyrants.

But when I left, it wasn’t in the middle of a battle.

 

“Ravenna is just as it’s been for years now:

The eagle of Polenta broods over it

So that it covers Cervia with its wings.

 

“The locale that made it through the long siege

And turned the French into a bloody mess

Now finds itself underneath the green claws.

 

“The old and young mastiffs of Verruchio

Who fiercely and badly ruled over Montagna

Morphed their teeth into their augurs.

 

“The cities of Lamone and Santerno

Are ruled by the little lion in the white den

Who changes sides at every equinox.

 

“And the town that’s bathed by the Savio—
Just as it sits between the mountain and the plain—

So too it lives between tyranny and freedom.

 

“So now, I beg you, tell us who you are.

Don’t be as recalcitrant with me as others have been with you,

All so your name can go on in the world above.”