That made monotonous burden to their rhymes;
Even as from branch to branch it gathering swells
Through the pine forests on the shore of Chiassi
When Æolus unlooses the sirocco.
Already my slow steps had led me on
Into the ancient wood so far, that I
Could see no more the place where I had entered;
And, lo! my farther course cut off a river,
Which, toward the left hand, with its little waves,
Bent down the grass that on its margin sprang.