wer.

_Canto VIII._ From the lofty turret flash flaming signals, evidently
designed to summon some bark or ferry, since a vessel soon appears.
Once more Virgil has to silence a snarling boatman (Phlegyas) ere he
can enter his skiff, where he invites Dante to follow him. Then they
row across the mire, whence heads keep emerging from time to time. One
of the sufferers confined here suddenly asks Dante, "Who art thou that
earnest ere thine hour?" only to be hastily assured the poet does not
intend to stay. Just as Dante expresses the wish to know whom he is
addressing, he recognizes this sinner (Argenti) and turns from him in
loathing, an act which wins Virgil's approval. When Dante further
mutters he wishes this monster were stifled in the mud, Virgil
suddenly points to a squad of avenging spirits who, sweeping downward,
are about to fulfil this cruel wish, when the culprit rends himself to
pieces with his own teeth and plunges back into the Styx.

Sailing along, Virgil tries to prepare Dante for their arrival at the
city of Dis, whose minarets, colored by a fiery glow from within, now
shine in the distance. Steered into the moat surrounding this city,
the travellers slowly circle its iron walls, from which hosts of lost
souls lean clamoring, "Who is this that without death first felt goes
through the region of the dead?" When Virgil signals he will explain,
the demons disappear as if to admit them; but, when the travellers
reach the gates, they find them still tightly closed. Virgil then
explains that these very demons tried to oppose even Christ's entrance
to Hades, and adds that their power was broken on the first Easter
Day.

_Canto IX._ Quailing with terror, Dante hears Virgil admit that few
have undertaken to tread these paths, although they are familiar to
him, seeing that, guided by a witch (the Sibyl of Cumaea), he came
here with Aeneas. While Virgil is talking, the three Furies appear on
top of the tower, and, noting the intruders, clamor for Medusa to come
and turn them into stone! Bidding Dante avoid the Gorgon's petrifying
glance, Virgil further assures the safety of his charge by holding his
hands over Dante's eyes. While thus blinded, the author of the poem
hears waves splash against the shore, and, when Virgil's hands are
removed, perceives an angel walking dry-shod over the Styx. At a touch
from his hand, the gates of Dis open wide, and, without paying heed to
the poets, who have instinctively assumed