In the center of the amphitheater of Malebolge is a deep and vast well, guarded by giants, one of whom takes the poets in his arms and deposits them at the bottom. Here they find the ninth and last circle, where in four divisions the traitors against relatives, friends, country, and benefactors, are fixed like flies in amber in a solid lake of ice, swept by bitter, cold winds. Among the traitors to their country Dante sees one man who is gnawing in relentless rage at the head of another fixed in the ice in front of him. Inquiring the cause of this terrible cruelty, Dante hears the following story, couched in language which Goethe has declared to be without an equal in all poetry: "His jaws uplifting from their fell repast, That sinner wiped them on the hairs o' the head, Which he behind had mangled, then began: 'Thy will obeying, I call up afresh Sorrow past cure; which, but to think of, wrings My heart, or ere I tell on 't. But if words, That I may utter, shall prove seed to bear Fruit of eternal infamy to him, The traitor whom I gnaw at, thou at once Shalt see me speak and weep. Who thou mayst be I know not, nor how here below art come: But Florentine thou seemest of a truth, When I do hear thee. Know, I was on earth Count Ugolino, and the Archbishop he Ruggieri. Why I neighbor him so close, Now list. That through effect of his ill thoughts In him my trust reposing, I was ta'en And after murdered, need is not I tell. What therefore thou canst not have heard, that is, How cruel was the murder, shalt thou hear, And know if he have wrong'd me. A small grate Within that mew, which for my sake the name Of famine bears, where others yet must pine, Already through its opening several moons Had shown me, when I slept the evil sleep That from the future tore the curtain off. This one, methought, as master of the sport, Rode forth to chase the gaunt wolf, and his whelps, Unto the mountain which forbids the sight Of Lucca to the Pisan. With lean brachs Inquisitive and keen, before him ranged Lanfranchi with Sismondi and Gualandi. After short course the father and the sons Seemed tired and lagging, and methought I saw The sharp tusks gore their sides. When I awoke, Before the dawn, amid their sleep I heard My sons (for they were with me) weep and ask For bread. Right cruel art thou, if no pang Thou feel at thinking what my heart foretold; And if not now, why use thy tears to flow? Now had they wakened; and the hour drew near When they were wont to bring us food; the mind Of each misgave him through his dream, and I Heard, at its outlet underneath locked up The horrible tower: whence, uttering not a word, I look'd upon the visage of my sons. I wept not: so all stone I felt within. They wept: and one, my little Anselm, cried,