More worthy to be fixed in gelatine; 60 Not he whose breast and shadow equally Were by one thrust of Arthur's lance[810] pierced through: Nor yet Focaccia;[811] nor the one that me With his head hampers, blocking out my view, Whose name was Sassol Mascheroni:[812] well Thou must him know if thou art Tuscan too. And that thou need'st not make me further tell-- I'm Camicion de' Pazzi,[813] and Carlin[814] I weary for, whose guilt shall mine excel.' A thousand faces saw I dog-like grin, 70 Frost-bound; whence I, as now, shall always shake Whenever sight of frozen pools I win. While to the centre[815] we our way did make To which all things converging gravitate, And me that chill eternal caused to quake; Whether by fortune, providence, or fate, I know not, but as 'mong the heads I went I kicked one full in the face; who therefore straight 'Why trample on me?' snarled and made lament, 'Unless thou com'st to heap the vengeance high 80 For Montaperti,[816] why so virulent 'Gainst me?' I said: 'Await me here till I By him, O Master, shall be cleared of doubt;[817] Then let my pace thy will be guided by.' My Guide delayed, and I to him spake out, While he continued uttering curses shrill: 'Say, what art thou, at others thus to shout?' 'But who art thou, that goest at thy will Through Antenora,[818] trampling on the face Of others? 'Twere too much if thou wert still 90 In life.' 'I live, and it may help thy case,' Was my reply, 'if thou renown wouldst gain, Should I thy name[819] upon my tablets place.' And he: 'I for the opposite am fain. Depart thou hence, nor work me further dool; Within this swamp thou flatterest all in vain.' Then I began him by the scalp to pull, And 'Thou must tell how thou art called,' I said, 'Or soon thy hair will not be plentiful.' And he: 'Though every hair thou from me shred 100 I will not tell thee, nor my face turn round; No, though a thousand times thou spurn my head.' His locks ere this about my fist were wound, And many a tuft I tore, while dog-like wails Burst from him, and his eyes still sought the ground. Then called another: 'Bocca, what now ails? Is't not enough thy teeth go chattering there, But thou must bark? What devil thee assails?' 'Ah! now,' said I, 'thou need'st not aught declare, Accursed traitor; and true news of thee 110 To thy disgrace I to the world will bear.' 'Begone, tell what thou wilt,' he answered me; 'But, if thou issue hence, not silent keep[820] Of him whose tongue but lately wagged so free. He for the Frenchmen's money[821] here doth weep. Him of Duera saw I, mayst thou tell, Where sinners shiver in the frozen deep. Shouldst thou be asked who else within it dwell--