Part 48

Hushed in the shadow, while the sun is hot, Watched by the herdsman, who upon his staff Is leaning, and in leaning tendeth them;

And as the shepherd, lodging out of doors, Passes the night beside his quiet flock, Watching that no wild beast may scatter it,

Such at that hour were we, all three of us, I like the goat, and like the herdsmen they, Begirt on this side and on that by rocks.

Little could there be seen of things without; But through that little I beheld the stars More luminous and larger than their wont.

Thus ruminating, and beholding these, Sleep seized upon me,—sleep, that oftentimes Before a deed is done has tidings of it.

It was the hour, I think, when from the East First on the mountain Citherea beamed, Who with the fire of love seems always burning;

Youthful and beautiful in dreams methought I saw a lady walking in a meadow, Gathering flowers; and singing she was saying:

“Know whosoever may my name demand That I am Leah, and go moving round My beauteous hands to make myself a garland.

To please me at the mirror, here I deck me, But never does my sister Rachel leave Her looking-glass, and sitteth all day long.

To see her beauteous eyes as eager is she, As I am to adorn me with my hands; Her, seeing, and me, doing satisfies.”

And now before the antelucan splendours That unto pilgrims the more grateful rise, As, home-returning, less remote they lodge,

The darkness fled away on every side, And slumber with it; whereupon I rose, Seeing already the great Masters risen.

“That apple sweet, which through so many branches The care of mortals goeth in pursuit of, To-day shall put in peace thy hungerings.”

Speaking to me, Virgilius of such words As these made use; and never were there guerdons That could in pleasantness compare with these.

Such longing upon longing came upon me To be above, that at each step thereafter For flight I felt in me the pinions growing.

When underneath us was the stairway all Run o’er, and we were on the highest step, Virgilius fastened upon me his eyes,

And said: “The temporal fire and the eternal, Son, thou hast seen, and to a place art come Where of myself no farther I discern.

By intellect and art I here have brought thee; Take thine own pleasure for thy guide henceforth; Beyond the steep ways and the narrow art thou.

Behold the sun, that shines upon thy forehead; Behold the grass, the flowerets, and the shrubs Which of itself alone this land produces.

Until rejoicing come the beauteous eyes Which weeping caused me to come unto thee, Thou canst sit down, and thou canst walk among them.

Expect no more or word or sign from me; Free and upright and sound is thy free-will, And error were it not to do its bidding;

Thee o’er thyself I therefore crown and mitre!”

Purgatorio: Canto XXVIII

Eager already to search in and round The heavenly forest, dense and living-green, Which tempered to the eyes the new-born day,

Withouten more delay I left the bank, Taking the level country slowly, slowly Over the soil that everywhere breathes fragrance.

A softly-breathing air, that no mutation Had in itself, upon the forehead smote me No heavier blow than of a gentle wind,

Whereat the branches, lightly tremulous, Did all of them bow downward toward that side Where its first shadow casts the Holy Mountain;

Yet not from their upright direction swayed, So that the little birds upon their tops Should leave the practice of each art of theirs;