There the ministers of death
Flung me from them bound and helpless,
But at the sweet name of Jesus
All their fury fled and left me.
I passed on, and found me where
Some were cured, by a strange method,
Of their cruel wounds and torments;
Lead and burning pitch were melted,
And being poured upon their sores
Made a cautery most dreadful.
Who that hears me will not mourn?
Who that hears this awful lesson
Will not sigh and will not weep,
Will not fear and will not tremble?
Then I saw a certain building,
Out of which bright rays extended
From the windows and the doors,
As when conflagration settles
On a house, the flame bursts forth
Where an opening is presented.
"This," they told me, "is the villa
Of delights, the bath of pleasures,
The abode of the luxurious,
Where are punished all those women
Who were in the other life,
From frivolity excessive,
Too much given to scented waters,
Unguents, rouges, baths, and perfumes."--
I went in, and there beheld,
In a tank of cold snow melted,
Many lovely women bathing,
With an upturned look of terror;
Underneath the water they
Were the prey of snakes and serpents,
For the fishes and the sirens
Of this sea they represented;
In the clear transparent crystal
Stiff and frozen were their members,
Icy hard their hair was lifted,
Chattering struck their teeth together.
Passing out, the demons brought me
To a mountain so tremendous
In its height, that as it rose
Through the sky its peak dissevered,
If it did not tear and rend,
The vast azure veil celestial;
In the middle of this peak
A volcano stood, which, belching
Flames, appeared as if to spit them
In the very face of heaven.
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