Like as a lion looks in his repose.
Then Virgil, making a more near advance,
Prayed him to show us where the mountain rose
With easier slope, and still that soul replied
Nothing to his demand; but question made
About life, and our country. My sweet Guide
Began to answer: “Mantua”—and the shade
From where it had been, separate from his band,
All rapt in self, sprang up towards him in haste,
Saying: “O Mantuan, I am of thy land,