CANTO XI.
UPON the margin of a lofty bank
Which great rocks broken in a circle made,
We came upon a still more cruel throng;
And there, by reason of the horrible
Excess of stench the deep abyss throws out, 5
We drew ourselves aside behind the cover
Of a great tomb, whereon I saw a writing,
Which said: "Pope Anastasius I hold,
Whom out of the right way Photinus drew."
"Slow it behoveth our descent to be, 10
So that the sense be first a little used
To the sad blast, and then we shall not heed it."
The Master thus; and unto him I said,
"Some compensation find, that the time pass not
Idly"; and he: "Thou seest I think of that. 15
My son, upon the inside of these rocks,"
Began he then to say, "are three small circles,
From grade to grade, like those which thou art leaving.
