Wherefore as doth a man who tarries not,

But goes his whate'er to him appear,

way,

If of necessity the sting transfix him, In this wise did we enter through the gap, Taking the stairway, one before the other, Which by its narrowness divides the climbers. And as the little stork that lifts its wing

With a desire to fly, and doth not venture To leave the nest, and lets it downward droop, Even such was I, with the desire of asking

16

Kindled and quenched, unto the motion coming He makes who doth address himself to speak. 15 Not for our pace, though rapid it might be,

My Father sweet forbore, but said: “Let fly The bow of speech thou to the barb hast drawn.” With confidence I opened then my mouth,

20

And I began: "How can one meagre grow There where the need of nutriment applies not?" "If thou wouldst call to mind how Meleager

Was wasted by the wasting of a brand,

This would not," said he, " be to thee so sour; And wouldst thou think how at each tremulous

motion

Trembles within a mirror your own image;

25

That which seems hard would mellow seem to

thee.

But that thou mayst content thee in thy wish
Lo Statius here; and him I call and pray
He now will be the healer of thy wounds."
16 If I unfold to him the eternal vengeance,'
Responded Statius, "where thou present art,
Be my excuse that I can naught deny thee."

Line 11. With a desire to fly, and does not venture

Then he began: "Son, if these words of mine.
Thy mind doth contemplate and doth receive, 35
They'll be thy light unto the How thou sayest.
The perfect blood, which never is drunk up
Into the thirsty veins, and which remaineth
Like food that from the table thou removest,
Takes in the heart for all the human members
Virtue informative, as being that

40

Which to be changed to them goes through the

veins.

Again digest, descends it where 't is better

Silent to be than say; and then drops thence Upon another's blood in natural vase.

There one together with the other mingles,

One to be passive meant, the other active

By reason of the perfect place it springs from ; And being conjoined, begins to operate,

Coagulating first, then vivifying

What for its matter it had made consistent.

45

50

The active virtue, being made a soul

As of a plant, (in so far different,

This on the way is, that arrived already,)

Then works so much, that now it moves and feels Like a sea-fungus, and then undertakes

55

To organize the powers whose seed it is.
Now, Son, dilates and now distends itself

The virtue from the generator's heart,
Where nature is intent on all the members.

But how from animal it man becomes

Thou dost not see as yet; this is a point
Which made a wiser man than thou once err

So far, that in his doctrine separate

He made the soul from possible intellect,

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65

70

For he no organ saw by this assumed. Open thy breast unto the truth that's coming, And know that, just as soon as in the fœtus The articulation of the brain is perfect, The primal Motor turns to it well pleased At so great art of nature, and inspires A spirit new with virtue all replete, Which what it finds there active doth attract Into its substance, and becomes one soul, Which lives, and feels, and on itself revolves. 75 And that thou less may wonder at my word, Behold the sun's heat, which becometh wine, Joined to the juice that from the vine distils. Whenever Lachesis hath no more thread,

It separates from the flesh, and virtually Bears with itself the human and divine; The other faculties are voiceless all;

The memory, the intelligence, and the will
In action far more vigorous than before.
Without a pause it falleth of itself

In marvellous way on one shore or the other
There of its roads it first is cognizant.
Soon as the place there circumscribeth it,
The virtue informative rays round about,
As, and as much as, in the living members.
And even as the air, when full of rain,

By alien rays that are therein reflected,
With divers colors shows itself adorned,
So there the neighboring air doth shape itself
Into that form which doth impress upon it
Virtually the soul that has stood still.
And then in manner of the little flame,

Which followeth the fire where'er it shifts,

;

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85

90

After the spirit followeth its new form. Since afterwards it takes from this its semblance, 100 It is called shade; and thence it organizes Thereafter every sense, even to the sight.

Thence is it that we speak, and thence we laugh; Thence is it that we form the tears and sighs, That on the mountain thou mayhap hast heard.

According as impress us our desires

And other affections, so the shade is shaped, And this is cause of what thou wonderest at." And now unto the last of all the circles

105

Had we arrived, and to the right hand turned, 110 And were attentive to another care. There the embankment shoots forth flames of fire, And upward doth the cornice breathe a blast That drives them back, and from itself se

questers.

Hence we must needs go on the open side,

And one by one; and I did fear the fire

115

120

On this side, and on that the falling down. My Leader said: "Along this place one ought To keep upon the eyes a tightened rein, Seeing that one so easily might err." "Summæ Deus clementiæ," in the bosom Of the great burning chanted then I heard, Which made me no less eager to turn round; And spirits saw I walking through the flame; Wherefore I looked, to my own steps and theirs

Apportioning my sight from time to time. After the close which to that hymn is made,

Aloud they shouted, "Virum non cognosco";

125

Then recommenced the hymn with voices low. This also ended, cried they: "To the wood

Diana ran, and drove forth Helice

130

Therefrom, who had of Venus felt the poison." Then to their song returned they; then the wives They shouted, and the husbands who were chaste, As virtue and the marriage vow imposes. And I believe that them this mode sufficeth,

For all the time the fire is burning them; With such care is it needful, and such food, That the last wound of all should be closed up.

135

CANTO XXVI.

While on the brink thus one before the other
We went upon our way, oft the good Master
Said: "Take thou heed! suffice it that I warn
thee.'

On the right shoulder smote me now the sun,
That, raying out, already the whole west
Changed from its azure aspect into white.
And with my shadow did I make the flame
Appear more red; and even to such a sign
Shades saw I many, as they went, give heed.
This was the cause that gave them a beginning 10
To speak of me; and to themselves began they
To
say: "That seems not a factitious body!"
Then towards me, as far as they could come,
Came certain of them, always with regard

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Not to step forth where they would not be

burned.

"O thou who goest, not from being slower

Line 136. And I believe that them this mode suffices,

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