Within the mount a great old man erect
Looks out to Rome as if it were his glass;
His shoulders Damietta's coast reject.
A head shapen of perfect gold he has;
Of pure silver his limbs are, and his breast:
Thence down he is all of iron, proved the best,
Except that the right foot is baked of clay,
And on this, more than the other, doth he rest.
-Dante, Inferno (trans. Binyon)
This poem is in three numbered parts.