INFERNO 33, 22-75. by Percy Bysshe Shelley: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This is Shelley's revised translation of a section from Dante's *Inferno*, where Count Ugolino recounts his harrowing experience of being imprisoned in a tower with his sons and grandsons, ultimately left to die of starvation.
The poem
[Translated by Medwin and corrected by Shelley.] Now had the loophole of that dungeon, still Which bears the name of Famine’s Tower from me, And where ’tis fit that many another will Be doomed to linger in captivity, Shown through its narrow opening in my cell _5 ‘Moon after moon slow waning’, when a sleep, ‘That of the future burst the veil, in dream Visited me. It was a slumber deep And evil; for I saw, or I did seem’ To see, ‘that’ tyrant Lord his revels keep _10 The leader of the cruel hunt to them, Chasing the wolf and wolf-cubs up the steep Ascent, that from ‘the Pisan is the screen’ Of ‘Lucca’; with him Gualandi came, Sismondi, and Lanfranchi, ‘bloodhounds lean, _15 Trained to the sport and eager for the game Wide ranging in his front;’ but soon were seen Though by so short a course, with ‘spirits tame,’ The father and ‘his whelps’ to flag at once, And then the sharp fangs gored their bosoms deep. _20 Ere morn I roused myself, and heard my sons, For they were with me, moaning in their sleep, And begging bread. Ah, for those darling ones! Right cruel art thou, if thou dost not weep In thinking of my soul’s sad augury; _25 And if thou weepest not now, weep never more! They were already waked, as wont drew nigh The allotted hour for food, and in that hour Each drew a presage from his dream. When I ‘Heard locked beneath me of that horrible tower _30 The outlet; then into their eyes alone I looked to read myself,’ without a sign Or word. I wept not—turned within to stone. They wept aloud, and little Anselm mine, Said—’twas my youngest, dearest little one,— _35 “What ails thee, father? Why look so at thine?” In all that day, and all the following night, I wept not, nor replied; but when to shine Upon the world, not us, came forth the light Of the new sun, and thwart my prison thrown _40 Gleamed through its narrow chink, a doleful sight, ‘Three faces, each the reflex of my own, Were imaged by its faint and ghastly ray;’ Then I, of either hand unto the bone, Gnawed, in my agony; and thinking they _45 Twas done from sudden pangs, in their excess, All of a sudden raise themselves, and say, “Father! our woes, so great, were yet the less Would you but eat of us,—twas ‘you who clad Our bodies in these weeds of wretchedness; _50 Despoil them’.” Not to make their hearts more sad, I ‘hushed’ myself. That day is at its close,— Another—still we were all mute. Oh, had The obdurate earth opened to end our woes! The fourth day dawned, and when the new sun shone, _55 Outstretched himself before me as it rose My Gaddo, saying, “Help, father! hast thou none For thine own child—is there no help from thee?” He died—there at my feet—and one by one, I saw them fall, plainly as you see me. _60 Between the fifth and sixth day, ere twas dawn, I found ‘myself blind-groping o’er the three.’ Three days I called them after they were gone. Famine of grief can get the mastery. ***
This is Shelley's revised translation of a section from Dante's *Inferno*, where Count Ugolino recounts his harrowing experience of being imprisoned in a tower with his sons and grandsons, ultimately left to die of starvation. He shares a haunting dream that foreshadowed his fate, witnesses the death of his children one by one, and ends up isolated in darkness. The concluding line — "Famine of grief can get the mastery" — implies that it is grief, rather than hunger alone, that ultimately brings about his demise.
Line-by-line
Now had the loophole of that dungeon, still / Which bears the name of Famine's Tower from me,
'Moon after moon slow waning', when a sleep, / 'That of the future burst the veil, in dream / Visited me.
To see, 'that' tyrant Lord his revels keep / The leader of the cruel hunt to them,
The father and 'his whelps' to flag at once, / And then the sharp fangs gored their bosoms deep.
Ere morn I roused myself, and heard my sons, / For they were with me, moaning in their sleep,
They were already waked, as wont drew nigh / The allotted hour for food, and in that hour / Each drew a presage from his dream.
They wept aloud, and little Anselm mine, / Said—'twas my youngest, dearest little one,— / 'What ails thee, father? Why look so at thine?'
Upon the world, not us, came forth the light / Of the new sun, and thwart my prison thrown / Gleamed through its narrow chink, a doleful sight,
I 'hushed' myself. That day is at its close,— / Another—still we were all mute. Oh, had / The obdurate earth opened to end our woes!
The fourth day dawned, and when the new sun shone, / Outstretched himself before me as it rose / My Gaddo, saying, 'Help, father! hast thou none'
Between the fifth and sixth day, ere twas dawn, / I found 'myself blind-groping o'er the three.' / Three days I called them after they were gone.
Famine of grief can get the mastery.
Tone & mood
The tone is relentless and controlled. Ugolino recounts his own horror with a chilling calm — he doesn’t rage; he simply reports. That restraint is what makes the poem so devastating. There are moments when he directly addresses the listener, which feel almost accusatory, as if Ugolino is challenging you to stay unmoved. The borrowed phrases from Dante (marked in quotation marks) have an archaic, incantatory weight, while Shelley's corrections push the language toward something more immediate and physical. The overall effect is grief laid bare.
Symbols & metaphors
- The wolf and wolf-cubs — In the dream, Ugolino and his children take on the form of wolves being hunted. While wolves are typically seen as predators, in this vision, they become the prey — this portrayal diminishes their power and dignity. It also mirrors how Ugolino's enemies perceived his family: as a threatening lineage that needed to be wiped out, rather than as human beings.
- The tower and its loophole — The narrow window is the sole link to the outside world; it shows the passage of months and allows a faint light to touch the children's waning faces. It offers just enough to make their confinement more brutal: you can watch time pass, see the sun rise for everyone else, but you can't touch it.
- The locked door — The sound of the door locking below tells Ugolino that rescue isn’t coming. He doesn’t need to explain this to his children; he simply looks at them. The door signifies a point of no return, where hope fades away, marked by silence instead of words.
- Gnawing his own hands — Ugolino bites his own hands in agony, and his children mistake it for hunger, offering themselves to be eaten. This moment lies at the crossroads of grief and the instinct to survive, prompting the poem's most selfless act. It also resonates with the image of Ugolino gnawing on Ruggieri's skull in Hell — the poem is enveloped by acts of consumption.
- The reflected faces — When the light filters through the crack in the wall, Ugolino catches a glimpse of his own face mirrored in the faces of his starving children. They resemble him — sharing his features, his fate, and his guilt. This image erases the distance between parent and child, creating a feeling that's nearly unbearable.
- Famine — Famine appears in both literal and metaphorical ways. The tower carries its name, the children plead for bread, yet the final line shifts the perspective, suggesting that grief can equal or even exceed famine's power. Ultimately, it's ambiguous whether Ugolino succumbs to hunger or heartbreak — famine evolves into a term for any overwhelming, relentless loss.
Historical context
This passage translates Canto 33 of Dante's *Inferno*, lines 22–75, where Count Ugolino della Gherardesca—a real nobleman from 13th-century Pisa—narrates his imprisonment and death. Ugolino was a political player who shifted allegiances during Pisa's factional wars; his rival, Archbishop Ruggieri degli Ubaldini, imprisoned him in the Torre della Muda in 1288 along with his sons and grandsons, leading to their starvation. Dante depicts Ugolino in the ninth circle of Hell, eternally gnawing on Ruggieri's skull. Thomas Medwin, who was Shelley's cousin and friend, began the translation, and Shelley made significant revisions. Throughout his life, Shelley had a fascination with Dante—he was reading the *Commedia* in Italian and working on his own *Triumph of Life* at the time of his drowning in 1822. The quoted phrases in the text highlight lines that Shelley closely aligned with Medwin's original draft.
FAQ
Ugolino della Gherardesca was a real count from Pisa who lived in the 13th century. He was a savvy political player who changed allegiances during the factional wars in his city. Eventually, his rival, Archbishop Ruggieri, imprisoned him along with his children and left them to starve. In Dante's *Inferno*, Ugolino is found in the ninth circle, the lowest level of Hell meant for traitors, as Dante condemned him for betraying his city. The twist in Dante's narrative is that Ugolino's eternal punishment is to eternally gnaw on Ruggieri's skull, the very man who brought about his downfall.
Dante's original text is intentionally ambiguous, and Shelley's translation keeps that ambiguity intact. The children willingly offer themselves to be eaten, and Ugolino remains silent instead of refusing them outright. The final line — 'Famine of grief can get the mastery' — can be interpreted as either 'grief killed him before he could resort to cannibalism' or as a way to sidestep the actual events. Scholars have debated both interpretations for centuries. It's clear that Dante wanted the reader to ponder this ambiguity.
The poem was first drafted by Thomas Medwin, who is Shelley's cousin, and later edited by Shelley himself. The quoted phrases are lines that Shelley decided to keep from Medwin's version instead of rewriting them. This is an unusual editorial choice — Shelley is essentially revealing his process, indicating where he opted to maintain someone else's wording rather than change it.
It’s the poem's most compact and contentious line. One interpretation suggests that grief acts like a famine — a consuming, hollowing force — capable of eclipsing even physical hunger. Another interpretation posits that grief ultimately killed Ugolino after the loss of his children, completing what starvation had begun. In either case, the line shifts the poem's focus from the political crime (his imprisonment) to the emotional one (the loss of his children), making grief the central theme.
He says he "turned within to stone." His grief is so overwhelming that it silences him completely. At the same time, he appears to be shielding his children — if he shows emotion, he validates their fears, and he can't bear to do that. His silence reflects his deep sorrow and serves as a final act of fatherly protection, even if it feels pointless.
Both, in a way. The source is Dante's *Inferno*, which was written in the early 14th century. Shelley translated and revised this passage, making conscious choices about language, rhythm, and emphasis. Translation at this level is a creative act — Shelley isn't merely converting words; he’s shaping what the poem conveys in English. So it exists in the space between the two poets.
The dream depicts Ugolino and his children as wolves being chased and ripped apart by hounds. These hounds symbolize his political foes — the Gualandi, Sismondi, and Lanfranchi families, under the leadership of Archbishop Ruggieri. The dream serves as a prophecy, revealing precisely what fate awaits him. Upon waking to his sons' cries for bread, he is already aware of their grim future. The dream signifies that the impending horror is not unexpected — he must endure the burden of knowing what lies ahead before it unfolds.
Shelley had a lifelong fascination with Dante and read the *Commedia* in its original Italian. The Ugolino passage stands out as one of the most emotionally striking sections in all of Dante's work — it addresses political persecution, the pain of the innocent, and the limits of human endurance. These themes resonated deeply with Shelley. Additionally, while collaborating with Medwin, revising someone else's draft presented a unique creative challenge for him, different from starting a piece from the ground up.