if penury, mean toil were
The price for breathing once more Earth’s free air,
Gladly would all accept Man’s vilest lot,
But Hell’s and Heaven’s laws permit it not.
Slow Acheron is their eternal bound,
With unamiable Styx coiled ninefold around!
A fourth Circle holds within confines wide
“I Campi Dolorosi”; therein hide
In secluded alleys, and myrtle grove,
Those eaten through with leprosy of love.