Then as more near and nearer to us drew
That divine bird, so grew the splendor more
Till scarce the eye could bear a closer view:
I bent mine down, and he arrived ashore
With a fleet skiff, so light upon the flood
That without wake it skimmed the water’s breast:
High on the stern the heavenly helmsman stood,
In aspect such as Holy Writ calls Blest.[110]
More than an hundred spirits in one band
Within sat blending in one voice their strains,
“In exitu Isràel—From the land
Of Egypt”—and what else that psalm contains.[111]
The sign of holy cross he made them then,
Whereat they bounded all upon the strand,
And he, swift as he came, sped back again.
The crowd that stayed looked wildly round, and scanned
The place like strangers coming to things new.
Now on all sides had Phœbus pierced the day
With his keen arrows, which so fiercely flew
That Capricorn was chased from heaven’s midway,
When the new-comers raised their brows to us,
Saying: “Show us the pathway, if ye know,
Up to the mountain.” Virgil answered thus:
“Perchance you think us dwellers here? Not so.
We, like yourselves, are only pilgrims here:
Just before you, and by another way,
We came, a road so rugged, so severe,
That climbing this will seem thereto as play.
The spirits, by my breathing who could guess
That I was living, wan with wonder grew;
And just as people round a herald press
Who comes with olive wreaths, to hear what new
Tidings he bears, regardless how they tread,
Thus gathering round, those favored souls eyed me;
Each one, as ‘twere, forgetful how he sped
Towards where they go, more beautiful to be.
One I beheld before the rest, who came
As to embrace me, with such look intense
Of love, it moved me to return the same.
Oh! save in aspect, shadows void of sense,
Three times my hands around his form I threw,
And thrice received them back upon my breast.
I think my face was tinged with wonder’s hue;
For the shade smiled as after him I pressed,
And, I still following, he so sweetly said:
“Follow no longer;” whose that voice must be
I knew full well, and begged him, ere he fled,
To stay a little while to speak with me.
He answered me: “As in my mortal part
I loved thee once, I love thee loose from clay,
And therefore stop; but thou—why wandering art?”
“My dear Casella, I come not to stay,
And must return where I am dwelling still.
But tell me what has so delayed thy bliss?”
“If he who taketh whom and when he will
Refused my passage oft, no wrong was this,”
The shade replied: “To Heaven’s his choice conforms:
These three months freely he hath carried o’er,
At their own pleasure, the peace-parted swarms:
Whence I, too, coasting homeward by the shore,
Where Tiber’s waves grow salt, with gracious hand
Was gathered. Titherward he now has gone,
Bending his pinions towards the sacred strand
Where all those meet who seek not Acheron.”
Then I: “Unless the new laws here forbid
Memory or use of that love-laden style
Which all my longings once full gently chid,
Soothe with one song, beseech thee, for awhile
This soul of mine, which, dragging here its clay,
Is so worn out.” Directly he began
“Love reasons with me,” in so sweet a way
That the same sweetness I could hear—I can.
We stood, my Master and myself, as though
Naught else possessed us, and that shadowy swarm,
Rapt, listening round him to his notes: and lo!
That noble old man’s venerable form[112]
Came crying: “How now, tardy spirits—why
This negligence? why lingering do ye plod?
Run to the mountain, that from every eye
The scales may fall that seal your sight from God.”
As doves in barley, gathering grain or tares
(Busy at pasture in a single flock,
Quiet, nor showing their accustomed airs),
If aught approach the timid tribe to shock,
Fly from their food, assailed by greater care,
So quit the song this new-come troop, and started
Hillward, like one who goes unknowing where:
And with no less a pace we, too, departed.
[110] “Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.”
[111] Psalm cxiv.