Make sharp thy vision; subtle is the veil
So fine ‘twere easily passed through unseen.
I saw that gentle army, meek and pale,
Silently gazing upward with a mien
As of expectancy, and from on high
Beheld two angels with two swords descend
Which flamed with fire, but, as I could descry,
They bare no points, being broken at the end.
Green robes, in hue more delicate than spring’s
Tender new leaves, they trailed behind and fanned
With gentle beating of their verdant wings.
One, coming near, just over us took stand,
Down to th’ opponent bank the other sped,
So that the spirits were between them grouped
Full well could I discern each flaxen head;
But in their faces mine eyes’ virtue drooped,
As ‘twere confounded by excess and dead.
“From Mary’s bosom they have both come here,”
Sordello said—“this valley to protect
Against the serpent that will soon appear:”