In this new circle aught perchance of sound;
Then thus addressed my lord: “My Father dear!
Say, what offence is punished in this round?
Stay not thy speech although thy feet are stayed.”
“The love of good,” thus Virgil me bespoke,
“Wherein deficient here is perfect made;
Here the slow oar receives amending stroke.
But that thy mind with more expanded powers
May conceive this, give me thy mind, nor shun
To reap some harvest from this halt of ours.