Part 4

“My own Casella! to return once more There where I am, I make this journey,” said I; “But how from thee has so much time be taken?”

And he to me: “No outrage has been done me, If he who takes both when and whom he pleases Has many times denied to me this passage,

For of a righteous will his own is made. He, sooth to say, for three months past has taken Whoever wished to enter with all peace;

Whence I, who now had turned unto that shore Where salt the waters of the Tiber grow, Benignantly by him have been received.

Unto that outlet now his wing is pointed, Because for evermore assemble there Those who tow’rds Acheron do not descend.”

And I: “If some new law take not from thee Memory or practice of the song of love, Which used to quiet in me all my longings,

Thee may it please to comfort therewithal Somewhat this soul of mine, that with its body Hitherward coming is so much distressed.”

“Love, that within my mind discourses with me,” Forthwith began he so melodiously, The melody within me still is sounding.

My Master, and myself, and all that people Which with him were, appeared as satisfied As if naught else might touch the mind of any.

We all of us were moveless and attentive Unto his notes; and lo! the grave old man, Exclaiming: “What is this, ye laggard spirits?

What negligence, what standing still is this? Run to the mountain to strip off the slough, That lets not God be manifest to you.”

Even as when, collecting grain or tares, The doves, together at their pasture met, Quiet, nor showing their accustomed pride,

If aught appear of which they are afraid, Upon a sudden leave their food alone, Because they are assailed by greater care;

So that fresh company did I behold The song relinquish, and go tow’rds the hill, As one who goes, and knows not whitherward;

Nor was our own departure less in haste.

Purgatorio: Canto III

Inasmuch as the instantaneous flight Had scattered them asunder o’er the plain, Turned to the mountain whither reason spurs us,

I pressed me close unto my faithful comrade, And how without him had I kept my course? Who would have led me up along the mountain?

He seemed to me within himself remorseful; O noble conscience, and without a stain, How sharp a sting is trivial fault to thee!

After his feet had laid aside the haste Which mars the dignity of every act, My mind, that hitherto had been restrained,

Let loose its faculties as if delighted, And I my sight directed to the hill That highest tow’rds the heaven uplifts itself.

The sun, that in our rear was flaming red, Was broken in front of me into the figure Which had in me the stoppage of its rays;

Unto one side I turned me, with the fear Of being left alone, when I beheld Only in front of me the ground obscured.

“Why dost thou still mistrust?” my Comforter Began to say to me turned wholly round; “Dost thou not think me with thee, and that I guide thee?

’Tis evening there already where is buried The body within which I cast a shadow; ’Tis from Brundusium ta’en, and Naples has it.

Now if in front of me no shadow fall, Marvel not at it more than at the heavens, Because one ray impedeth not another

To suffer torments, both of cold and heat, Bodies like this that Power provides, which wills That how it works be not unveiled to us.

Insane is he who hopeth that our reason Can traverse the illimitable way, Which the one Substance in three Persons follows!