Inasmuch as the instantaneous flight ⁠Had scattered them asunder o’er the plain, ⁠Turned to the mountain whither reason spurs us, I pressed me close unto my faithful comrade, ⁠And how without him had I kept my course? ⁠Who would have led me up along the mountain? He seemed to me within himself remorseful; ⁠O noble conscience, and without a stain, ⁠How sharp a sting is trivial fault to thee! After his feet had laid aside the haste ⁠Which mars the dignity of every act, ⁠My mind, that hitherto had been restrained, Let loose its faculties as if delighted, ⁠And I my sight directed to the hill ⁠That highest tow’rds the heaven uplifts itself. The sun, that in our rear was flaming red, ⁠Was broken in front of me into the figure ⁠Which had in me the stoppage of its rays; Unto one side I turned me, with the fear ⁠Of being left alone, when I beheld ⁠Only in front of me the ground obscured. “Why dost thou still mistrust?” my Comforter ⁠Began to say to me turned wholly round; ⁠”Dost thou not think me with thee, and that I guide thee? ‘T is evening there already where is buried ⁠The body within which I cast a shadow; ⁠’T is from Brundusium ta’en, and Naples has it. Now if in front of me no shadow fall, ⁠Marvel not at it more than at the heavens, ⁠Because one ray impedeth not another. To suffer torments, both of cold and heat, ⁠Bodies like this that Power provides, which wills ⁠That how it works be not unveiled to us. Insane is he who hopeth that our reason ⁠Can traverse the illimitable way, ⁠Which the one Substance in three Persons follows! Mortals, remain contented at the Quia; ⁠For if ye had been able to see all, ⁠No need there were for Mary to give birth; And ye have seen desiring without fruit, ⁠Those whose desire would have been quieted, ⁠Which evermore is given them for a grief. I speak of Aristotle and of Plato, ⁠And many others”;—and here bowed his head, ⁠And more he said not, and remained disturbed. We came meanwhile unto the mountain’s foot; ⁠There so precipitate we found the rock, ⁠That nimble legs would there have been in vain. ‘Twixt Lerici and Turbìa, the most desert, ⁠The most secluded pathway is a stair ⁠Easy and open, if compared with that. “Who knoweth now upon which hand the hill ⁠Slopes down,” my Master said, his footsteps staying, ⁠”So that who goeth without wings may mount?” And while he held his eyes upon the ground ⁠Examining the nature of the path, ⁠And I was looking up around the rock, On the left hand appeared to me a throng ⁠Of souls, that moved their feet in our direction, ⁠And did not seem to move, they came so slowly. “Lift up thine eyes,” I to the Master said; ⁠”Behold, on this side, who will give us counsel, ⁠If thou of thine own self can have it not.” Then he looked at me, and with frank expression ⁠Replied: “Let us go there, for they come slowly, ⁠And thou be steadfast in thy hope, sweet son.” Still was that people as far off from us, ⁠After a thousand steps of ours I say, ⁠As a good thrower with his hand would reach, When they all crowded unto the hard masses ⁠Of the high bank, and motionless stood and close, ⁠As he stands still to look who goes in doubt. “O happy dead! O spirits elect already!” ⁠Virgilius made beginning, “by that peace ⁠Which I believe is waiting for you all, Tell us upon what side the mountain slopes, ⁠So that the going up be possible, ⁠For to lose time irks him most who most knows.” As sheep come issuing forth from out the fold ⁠By ones and twos and threes, and the others stand ⁠Timidly, holding down their eyes and nostrils, And what the foremost does the others do, ⁠Huddling themselves against her, if she stop, ⁠Simple and quiet and the wherefore know not; So moving to approach us thereupon ⁠I saw the leader of that fortunate flock, ⁠Modest in face and dignified in gait. As soon as those in the advance saw broken ⁠The light upon the ground at my right side, ⁠So that from me the shadow reached the rock, They stopped, and backward drew themselves somewhat; ⁠And all the others, who came after them, ⁠Not knowing why nor wherefore, did the same. “Without your asking, I confess to you ⁠This is a human body which you see, ⁠Whereby the sunshine on the ground is cleft. Marvel ye not thereat, but be persuaded ⁠That not without a power which comes from Heaven ⁠Doth he endeavor to surmount this wall.” The Master thus; and said those worthy people: ⁠”Return ye then, and enter in before us,” ⁠Making a signal with the back o’ the hand. And one of them began: “Whoe’er thou art, ⁠Thus going turn thine eyes, consider well ⁠If e’er thou saw me in the other world.” I turned me tow’rds him, and looked at him closely; ⁠Blond was he, beautiful, and of noble aspect, ⁠But one of his eyebrows had a blow divided. When with humility I had disclaimed ⁠E’er having seen him, “Now behold!” he said, ⁠And showed me high upon his breast a wound. Then said he with a smile: “I am Manfredi, ⁠The grandson of the Emperess Costanza; ⁠Therefore, when thou returnest, I beseech thee Go to my daughter beautiful, the mother ⁠Of Sicily’s honor and of Aragon’s, ⁠And the truth tell her, if aught else be told. After I had my body lacerated ⁠By these two mortal stabs, I gave myself ⁠Weeping to Him, who willingly doth pardon. Horrible my iniquities had been; ⁠But Infinite Goodness hath such ample arms, ⁠That it receives whatever turns to it. Had but Cosenza’s pastor, who in chase ⁠Of me was sent by Clement at that time, ⁠In God read understandingly this page, The bones of my dead body still would be ⁠At the bridge-head, near unto Benevento, ⁠Under the safeguard of the heavy cairn. Now the rain bathes and moveth them the wind, ⁠Beyond the realm, almost beside the Verde, ⁠Where he transported them with tapers quenched. By malison of theirs is not so lost ⁠Eternal Love, that it cannot return, ⁠So long as hope has anything of green. True is it, who in contumacy dies ⁠Of Holy Church, though penitent at last, ⁠Must wait upon the outside of this bank Thirty times told the time that he has been ⁠In his presumption, unless such decree ⁠Shorter by means of righteous prayers become. See now if thou hast power to make me happy, ⁠By making known unto my good Costanza ⁠How thou hast seen me, and this ban beside, For those on earth can much advance us here.” ⁠