"A man of arms at first; I clothed me then In good Saint Francis' girdle, hoping so To have made amends. And certainly my hope Had failed not, but that he whom curses light on, The high priest, again seduced me into sin; And how and wherefore listen while I tell. Long as the spirit moved the bones and pulp My mother gave me, less my deeds bespake The nature of the lion than the fox: All ways of winding subtlety I knew, And with such art conducted that the sound Reached the world's limit. Soon as to that part Of life I found me come, when each behoves To lower sails and gather in the lines, That which before had pleased me then I rued, And to repentance and confession turned; Wretch that I was, and well it had bested me! The chief of the new Pharisees meantime, Waging his warfare near the Lateran, Not with the Saracens or Jews (his foes All Christians were, nor against Acre one Had fought, nor trafficked in the Soldan's land), He his great charge nor sacred ministry In himself reverenced, nor in me that cord Which used to mark with leanness whom it girded. As in Soracte Constantine besought, To cure his leprosy, Silvester's aid; So me to cure the fever of his pride This man besought. My counsel to that end He asked, and I was silent, for his words Seemed drunken: but forthwith he thus resumed: 'From thy heart banish fear; of all offence I hitherto absolve thee. In return, Teach me my purpose so to execute, That Palestrina cumber earth no more. Heaven, as thou knowest, I have the power to shut And open, and the keys are therefore twain, The which my predecessor meanly prized.' Then yielding to these forceful arguments, And deeming silence yet more perilous, I answered, 'Father, since thou washest me Clear of that guilt wherein I now must fall,-- Large promise with performance scant right sure Shall make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.' When I was numbered with the dead, then came Saint Francis for me; but a cherub dark He met, who cried, 'Wrong me not! he is mine, And must below to join the wretched crew, For the deceitful counsel which he gave:' E'er since I've watched him, hovering at his hair. No power can the impenitent absolve, For to repent and will can ne'er consist, By contradiction absolute forbid. Oh misery! how I shook myself when he Seized me and cried, 'Thou haply thoughtst me not A disputant in logic so exact!' To Minos down he bore me, and the judge Twined eight times round his callous back the tail, Which, biting with excess of rage, he spake, 'This is a guilty soul that in the fire Must vanish!' Hence, perdition doomed, I rove, A prey to rankling sorrow in this garb." CAREY'S _Inferno_, xxvii.