[417] _Rinier Pazzo_: Of the great family of the Pazzi of Val d'Arno, was excommunicated in 1269 for robbing ecclesiastics. CANTO XIII. Ere Nessus landed on the other shore We for our part within a forest[418] drew, Which of no pathway any traces bore. Not green the foliage, but of dusky hue; Not smooth the boughs, but gnarled and twisted round; For apples, poisonous thorns upon them grew. No rougher brakes or matted worse are found Where savage beasts betwixt Corneto[419] roam And Cecina,[419] abhorring cultured ground. The loathsome Harpies[420] nestle here at home, 10 Who from the Strophades the Trojans chased With dire predictions of a woe to come. Great winged are they, but human necked and faced, With feathered belly, and with claw for toe; They shriek upon the bushes wild and waste. 'Ere passing further, I would have thee know,' The worthy Master thus began to say, 'Thou'rt in the second round, nor hence shalt go Till by the horrid sand thy footsteps stay. Give then good heed, and things thou'lt recognise 20 That of my words will prove[421] the verity.' Wailings on every side I heard arise: Of who might raise them I distinguished nought; Whereon I halted, smitten with surprise. I think he thought that haply 'twas my thought The voices came from people 'mong the trees, Who, to escape us, hiding-places sought; Wherefore the Master said: 'From one of these Snap thou a twig, and thou shalt understand How little with thy thought the fact agrees.' 30 Thereon a little I stretched forth my hand And plucked a tiny branch from a great thorn. 'Why dost thou tear me?' made the trunk demand. When dark with blood it had begun to turn, It cried a second time: 'Why wound me thus? Doth not a spark of pity in thee burn? Though trees we be, once men were all of us; Yet had our souls the souls of serpents been Thy hand might well have proved more piteous.' As when the fire hath seized a fagot green 40 At one extremity, the other sighs, And wind, escaping, hisses; so was seen, At where the branch was broken, blood to rise And words were mixed with it. I dropped the spray And stood like one whom terror doth surprise. The Sage replied: 'Soul vexed with injury, Had he been only able to give trust To what he read narrated in my lay,[422] His hand toward thee would never have been thrust. 'Tis hard for faith; and I, to make it plain, 50 Urged him to trial, mourn it though I must. But tell him who thou wast; so shall remain This for amends to thee, thy fame shall blow Afresh on earth, where he returns again.' And then the trunk: 'Thy sweet words charm me so, I cannot dumb remain; nor count it hard If I some pains upon my speech bestow. For I am he[423] who held both keys in ward