Thy sacrifice, great Saint, impede.

To whom, O Sage, belongs this land

In which thine altars ready stand!

'Tis mine to guard them, and to slay

The giants who the rites would stay.

All this, O best of saints, I burn

From thine own lips, my lord, to learn.”

Canto XXXI. The Perfect Hermitage.

Thus spoke the prince of boundless might,