O Simon Magus![534] ye his wretched crew! The gifts of God, ordained to be the bride Of righteousness, ye prostitute that you With gold and silver may be satisfied; Therefore for you let now the trumpet[535] blow, Seeing that ye in the Third Bolgia 'bide. Arrived at the next tomb,[536] we to the brow Of rock ere this had finished our ascent, Which hangs true plumb above the pit below. What perfect art, O Thou Omniscient, 10 Is Thine in Heaven and earth and the bad world found! How justly does Thy power its dooms invent! The livid stone, on both banks and the ground, I saw was full of holes on every side, All of one size, and each of them was round. No larger seemed they to me nor less wide Than those within my beautiful St. John[537] For the baptizers' standing-place supplied; And one of which, not many years agone, I broke to save one drowning; and I would 20 Have this for seal to undeceive men known. Out of the mouth of each were seen protrude A sinner's feet, and of the legs the small Far as the calves; the rest enveloped stood. And set on fire were both the soles of all, Which made their ankles wriggle with such throes As had made ropes and withes asunder fall. And as flame fed by unctuous matter goes Over the outer surface only spread; So from their heels it flickered to the toes. 30 'Master, who is he, tortured more,' I said, 'Than are his neighbours, writhing in such woe; And licked by flames of deeper-hearted red?' And he: 'If thou desirest that below I bear thee by that bank[538] which lowest lies, Thou from himself his sins and name shalt know.' And I: 'Thy wishes still for me suffice: Thou art my Lord, and knowest I obey Thy will; and dost my hidden thoughts surprise.' To the fourth barrier then we made our way, 40 And, to the left hand turning, downward went Into the narrow hole-pierced cavity; Nor the good Master caused me make descent From off his haunch till we his hole were nigh Who with his shanks was making such lament. 'Whoe'er thou art, soul full of misery, Set like a stake with lower end upcast,' I said to him, 'Make, if thou canst, reply.' I like a friar[539] stood who gives the last Shrift to a vile assassin, to his side 50 Called back to win delay for him fixed fast. 'Art thou arrived already?' then he cried, 'Art thou arrived already, Boniface? By several years the prophecy[540] has lied. Art so soon wearied of the wealthy place, For which thou didst not fear to take with guile, Then ruin the fair Lady?'[541] Now my case Was like to theirs who linger on, the while They cannot comprehend what they are told, And as befooled[542] from further speech resile. 60