I speak of Aristotle and of Plato, And many others”;⁠—and here bowed his head, And more he said not, and remained disturbed. We came meanwhile unto the mountain’s foot; There so precipitate we found the rock, That nimble legs would there have been in vain. ’Twixt Lerici and Turbìa, the most desert, 563 The most secluded pathway is a stair Easy and open, if compared with that. “Who knoweth now upon which hand the hill Slopes down,” my Master said, his footsteps staying, “So that who goeth without wings may mount?” And while he held his eyes upon the ground Examining the nature of the path, And I was looking up around the rock, On the left hand appeared to me a throng Of souls, that moved their feet in our direction, And did not seem to move, they came so slowly. “Lift up thine eyes,” I to the Master said; “Behold, on this side, who will give us counsel, If thou of thine own self can have it not.” Then he looked at me, and with frank expression Replied: “Let us go there, for they come slowly,