and pours down through a cleft that proceeds from it. The water
was far darker than perse;[1] and we, in company with the dusky
waves, entered down through a strange way. A marsh it makes, that
is named Styx, this dismal little stream, when it has descended
to the foot of the malign gray slopes. And I, who stood intent to
gaze, saw muddy people in that swamp, all naked and with look of
hurt. They were smiting each other, not only with hands, but with
head, and with chest, and with feet, mangling one another
piecemeal with their teeth.

[1] Purple-black.


The good Master said, "Son, now thou seest the souls of those
whom anger overcame; and likewise I would have thee believe for
certain that beneath the water are folk who sigh, and make this
water bubble at the surface, as thine eye tells thee wherever it
turns. Fixed in the slime, they say, 'Sullen were we in the sweet
air that by the Sun is gladdened, bearing within ourselves the
sluggish fume; now we are sullen in the black mire.' This hymn
they gurgle in their throats, for they cannot speak with entire
words."[1]

[1] The sin here punished is that known to the Middle Ages as
acedia, or accidie,--slackness in good works, and spiritual gloom
and despondency. In the Parson's Tale Chaucer says: "Envie and
ire maken bitternesse in heart, which bitternesse is mother of
accidie."