But watched, but watched great Virgil stayed
Greeting Sordello's couchant shade,
Which to salute him rose
Like lion from its pose;
While humbly by those lords of song
Stood he whose living limbs are strong
To mount where Mary's bliss
Is shed on Beatrice.
On him your gaze was fastened, more
Than on those great names Mantua bore;
Your eyes hold the distress
Still, of that wistfulness.
Yea, fit he seemed much love to rouse!
His pilgrim lips and iron brows
Grew like a woman's, dim,
While you held speech with him;
And troubled came his mortal breath
The while I told him of my death;
His looks were changed and wan
When Virgil led him on.
VI
LA PIA
E'er since Casella came this morn,
Newly o'er yonder ocean borne,
Bound upward for the choir
Who purge themselves in fire,
And from that meinie he was of
Stayed backward at my cry of love,
To speak awhile with me
Of life and Tuscany,