THERE is a place within the depths of hell Call'd Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain'd With hue ferruginous, e'en as the steep That round it circling winds. Right in the midst Of that abominable region, yawns A spacious gulf profound, whereof the frame Due time shall tell. The circle, that remains, Throughout its round, between the gulf and base Of the high craggy banks, successive forms Ten trenches, in its hollow bottom sunk. As where to guard the walls, full many a foss Begirds some stately castle, sure defence Affording to the space within, so here Were model'd these; and as like fortresses E'en from their threshold to the brink without, Are flank'd with bridges; from the rock's low base…
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