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therewith return below,

       And, wandering, walk the hillside round about,

       While the horizon holds the day imprisoned."

      Thereon my Lord, as if in wonder, said:

       "Do thou conduct us thither, where thou sayest

       That we can take delight in tarrying."

      Little had we withdrawn us from that place,

       When I perceived the mount was hollowed out

       In fashion as the valleys here are hollowed.

      "Thitherward," said that shade, "will we repair,

       Where of itself the hillside makes a lap,

       And there for the new day will we await."

      'Twixt hill and plain there was a winding path

       Which led us to the margin of that dell,

       Where dies the border more than half away.

      Gold and fine silver, and scarlet and pearl-white,

       The Indian wood resplendent and serene,

       Fresh emerald the moment it is broken,

      By herbage and by flowers within that hollow

       Planted, each one in colour would be vanquished,

       As by its greater vanquished is the less.

      Nor in that place had nature painted only,

       But of the sweetness of a thousand odours

       Made there a mingled fragrance and unknown.

      "Salve Regina," on the green and flowers

       There seated, singing, spirits I beheld,

       Which were not visible outside the valley.

      "Before the scanty sun now seeks his nest,"

       Began the Mantuan who had led us thither,

       "Among them do not wish me to conduct you.

      Better from off this ledge the acts and faces

       Of all of them will you discriminate,

       Than in the plain below received among them.

      He who sits highest, and the semblance bears

       Of having what he should have done neglected,

       And to the others' song moves not his lips,

      Rudolph the Emperor was, who had the power

       To heal the wounds that Italy have slain,

       So that through others slowly she revives.

      The other, who in look doth comfort him,

       Governed the region where the water springs,

       The Moldau bears the Elbe, and Elbe the sea.

      His name was Ottocar; and in swaddling-clothes

       Far better he than bearded Winceslaus

       His son, who feeds in luxury and ease.

      And the small-nosed, who close in council seems

       With him that has an aspect so benign,

       Died fleeing and disflowering the lily;

      Look there, how he is beating at his breast!

       Behold the other one, who for his cheek

       Sighing has made of his own palm a bed;

      Father and father-in-law of France's Pest

       Are they, and know his vicious life and lewd,

       And hence proceeds the grief that so doth pierce them.

      He who appears so stalwart, and chimes in,

       Singing, with that one of the manly nose,

       The cord of every valour wore begirt;

      And if as King had after him remained

       The stripling who in rear of him is sitting,

       Well had the valour passed from vase to vase,

      Which cannot of the other heirs be said.

       Frederick and Jacomo possess the realms,

       But none the better heritage possesses.

      Not oftentimes upriseth through the branches

       The probity of man; and this He wills

       Who gives it, so that we may ask of Him.

      Eke to the large-nosed reach my words, no less

       Than to the other, Pier, who with him sings;

       Whence Provence and Apulia grieve already

      The plant is as inferior to its seed,

       As more than Beatrice and Margaret

       Costanza boasteth of her husband still.

      Behold the monarch of the simple life,

       Harry of England, sitting there alone;

       He in his branches has a better issue.

      He who the lowest on the ground among them

       Sits looking upward, is the Marquis William,

       For whose sake Alessandria and her war

      Make Monferrat and Canavese weep."

      VIII. The Guardian Angels and the Serpent. Nino di Gallura. The Three Stars. Currado Malaspina.

       Table of Contents

      'Twas now the hour that turneth back desire

       In those who sail the sea, and melts the heart,

       The day they've said to their sweet friends farewell,

      And the new pilgrim penetrates with love,

       If he doth hear from far away a bell

       That seemeth to deplore the dying day,

      When I began to make of no avail

       My hearing, and to watch one of the souls

       Uprisen, that begged attention with its hand.

      It joined and lifted upward both its palms,

       Fixing its eyes upon the orient,

       As if it said to God, "Naught else I care for."

      "Te lucis ante" so devoutly issued

       Forth from its mouth, and with such dulcet notes,

       It made me issue forth from my own mind.

      And then the others, sweetly and devoutly,

       Accompanied it through all the hymn entire,

       Having their eyes on the supernal wheels.

      Here, Reader, fix thine eyes well on the truth,

       For now indeed so subtile is the veil,

       Surely to penetrate within is easy.

      I saw that army of the gentle-born

       Thereafterward in silence upward gaze,

       As if in expectation, pale and humble;

      And from on high come forth and down descend,

       I saw two Angels with two flaming swords,

       Truncated and deprived of their points.

      Green as the little leaflets just now born

       Their garments were, which, by their verdant pinions

       Beaten and blown abroad, they trailed behind.

      One just above us came to take his station,

       And one descended to the opposite bank,

      

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