Canto XXXIII

intent. Truly from this time forward shall my words Be naked, so far as it is befitting To lay them open unto thy rude gaze.” And more coruscant and with slower steps The sun was holding the meridian circle, Which, with the point of view, shifts here and there, When halted (as he cometh to a halt, Who goes before a squadron as its escort, If something new he find upon his way) The maidens seven at a dark shadow’s edge, Such as, beneath green leaves and branches black, The Alp upon its frigid border wears. In front of them the Tigris and Euphrates Methought I saw forth issue from one fountain, And slowly part, like friends, from one another. “O light, O glory of the human race! What stream is this which here unfolds itself From out one source, and from itself withdraws?” For such a prayer, ’twas said unto me, “Pray Matilda that she tell thee”; and here answered, As one does who doth free himself from blame, The beautiful lady: “This and other things Were told to him by me; and sure I am The water of Lethe has not hid them from him.” And Beatrice: “Perhaps a greater care, Which oftentimes our memory takes away, Has made the vision of his mind obscure. But Eunoë behold, that yonder rises; Lead him to it, and, as thou art accustomed, Revive again the half-dead virtue in him.” Like gentle soul, that maketh no excuse, But makes its own will of another’s will As soon as by a sign it is disclosed, Even so, when she had taken hold of me, The beautiful lady moved, and unto Statius Said, in her womanly manner, “Come with him.” If, Reader, I possessed a longer space For writing it, I yet would sing in part Of the sweet draught that ne’er would satiate me; But inasmuch as full are all the leaves Made ready for this second canticle, The curb of art no farther lets me go. From the most holy water I returned Regenerate, in the manner of new trees That are renewed with a new foliage, Pure and disposed to mount unto the stars.