Sitting upon the threshold’s gleaming stone,
Which seemed to me of adamant. My Guide
Led me with my good will up that ascent,
Saying, “Beg humbly that the bolt may slide!”
And at those hallowed feet devout I bent.
“In mercy open to me!” I implored,
But first I smote me thrice upon my breast.
He on my forehead with his pointed sword
Traced P. seven times, then spake me this behest:
“Wash thou these wounds when thou hast past the door.”
Ashes or dry heaps dug from gravelly earth
Were of one color with the robe he wore,
From under which two keys he next drew forth.
One was of gold, one silver; first he plied
The white, then used the yellow on the gate,
In such sort as my spirit satisfied;
Then said: “To none is passable the strait
When either of these keys be vainly tried,
And in the wards without response it grate.
One is more precious, one more asketh wise