Day was departing, and the embrowned air Released the animals that are on earth ⁠From their fatigues; and I the only one Made myself ready to sustain the war, ⁠Both of the way and likewise of the woe, ⁠Which memory that errs not shall retrace. O Muses, O high genius, now assist me! ⁠O memory, that didst write down what I saw, ⁠Here thy nobility shall be manifest! And I began: “Poet, who guidest me, ⁠Regard my manhood, if it be sufficient, ⁠Ere to the arduous pass thou dost confide me. Thou sayest, that of Silvius the parent, ⁠While yet corruptible, unto the world ⁠Immortal went, and was there bodily. But if the adversary of all evil ⁠Was courteous, thinking of the high effect ⁠That issue would from him, and who, and what, To men of intellect unmeet it seems not; ⁠For he was of great Rome, and of her empire ⁠In the empyreal heaven as father chosen; The which and what, wishing to speak the truth, ⁠Were stablished as the holy place, wherein ⁠Sits the successor of the greatest Peter. Upon this journey, whence thou givest him vaunt, ⁠Things did he hear, which the occasion were ⁠Both of his victory and the papal mantle. Thither went afterwards the Chosen Vessel, ⁠To bring back comfort thence unto that Faith, ⁠Which of salvation’s way is the beginning. But I, why thither come, or who concedes it? ⁠I not Æneas am, I am not Paul, ⁠Nor I, nor others, think me worthy of it. Therefore, if I resign myself to come, ⁠I fear the coming may be ill-advised; ⁠Thou’rt wise, and knowest better than I speak.” And as he is, who unwills what he willed, ⁠And by new thoughts doth his intention change, ⁠So that from his design he quite withdraws, Such I became, upon that dark hillside, ⁠Because, in thinking, I consumed the emprise, ⁠Which was so very prompt in the beginning. “If I have well thy language understood,” ⁠Replied that shade of the Magnanimous, ⁠”Thy soul attainted is with cowardice, Which many times a man encumbers so, ⁠It turns him back from honored enterprise, ⁠As false sight doth a beast, when he is shy. That thou mayst free thee from this apprehension, ⁠I’ll tell thee why I came, and what I heard ⁠At the first moment when I grieved for thee. Among those was I who are in suspense, ⁠And a fair, saintly Lady called to me ⁠In such wise, I besought her to command me. Her eyes were shining brighter than the Star; ⁠And she began to say, gentle and low, ⁠With voice angelical, in her own language: ‘O spirit courteous of Mantua, ⁠Of whom the fame still in the world endures, ⁠And shall endure, long-lasting as the world; A friend of mine, and not the friend of fortune, ⁠Upon the desert slope is so impeded ⁠Upon his way, that he has turned through terror, And may, I fear, already be so lost, ⁠That I too late have risen to his succor, ⁠From that which I have heard of him in Heaven. Bestir thee now, and with thy speech ornate, ⁠And with what needful is for his release, ⁠Assist him so, that I may be consoled. Beatrice am I, who do bid thee go; ⁠I come from there, where I would fain return; ⁠Love moved me, which compelleth me to speak. When I shall be in presence of my Lord, ⁠Full often will I praise thee unto him.’ ⁠Then paused she, and thereafter I began: ‘O Lady of virtue, thou alone through whom ⁠The human race exceedeth all contained ⁠Within the heaven that has the lesser circles, So grateful unto me is thy commandment, ⁠To obey, if ‘t were already done, were late; ⁠No farther need’st thou ope to me thy wish. But the cause tell me why thou dost not shun ⁠The here descending down into this centre, ⁠From the vast place thou burnest to return to.’ ‘Since thou wouldst fain so inwardly discern, ⁠Briefly will I relate,’ she answered me, ⁠’Why I am not afraid to enter here. Of those things only should one be afraid ⁠Which have the power of doing others harm; ⁠Of the rest, no; because they are not fearful. God in his mercy such created me ⁠That misery of yours attains me not, ⁠Nor any flame assails me of this burning. A gentle Lady is in Heaven, who grieves ⁠At this impediment, to which I send thee, ⁠So that stern judgment there above is broken. In her entreaty she besought Lucìa, ⁠And said, “Thy faithful one now stands in need ⁠Of thee, and unto thee I recommend him.” Lucìa, foe of all that cruel is, ⁠Hastened away, and came unto the place ⁠Where I was sitting with the ancient Rachel. “Beatrice,” said she, “the true praise of God, ⁠Why succorest thou not him, who loved thee so, ⁠For thee he issued from the vulgar herd? Dost thou not hear the pity of his plaint? ⁠Dost thou not see the death that combats him ⁠Beside that flood, where ocean has no vaunt?” Never were persons in the world so swift ⁠To work their weal and to escape their woe, ⁠As I, after such words as these were uttered, Came hither downward from my blessed seat, ⁠Confiding in thy dignified discourse, ⁠Which honors thee, and those who’ve listened to it.’ After she thus had spoken unto me, ⁠Weeping, her shining eyes she turned away; ⁠Whereby she made me swifter in my coming; And unto thee I came, as she desired; ⁠I have delivered thee from that wild beast, ⁠Which barred the beautiful mountain’s short ascent. What is it, then? Why, why dost thou delay? ⁠Why is such baseness bedded in thy heart? ⁠Daring and hardihood why hast thou not, Seeing that three such Ladies benedight ⁠Are caring for thee in the court of Heaven, ⁠And so much good my speech doth promise thee?” Even as the flowerets, by nocturnal chill, ⁠Bowed down and closed, when the sun whitens them, ⁠Uplift themselves all open on their stems; Such I became with my exhausted strength, ⁠And such good courage to my heart there coursed, ⁠That I began, like an intrepid person: “O she compassionate, who succored me, ⁠And courteous thou, who hast obeyed so soon ⁠The words of truth which she addressed to thee! Thou hast my heart so with desire disposed ⁠To the adventure, with these words of thine, ⁠That to my first intent I have returned. Now go, for one sole will is in us both, ⁠Thou Leader, and thou Lord, and Master thou.” ⁠Thus said I to him; and when he had moved, I entered on the deep and savage way.