Abreast, like oxen going in a yoke, 734 I with that heavy-laden soul went on, As long as the sweet pedagogue permitted; 735 But when he said, “Leave him, and onward pass, For here ’tis good that with the sail and oars, As much as may be, each push on his barque”; Upright, as walking wills it, I redressed My person, notwithstanding that my thoughts Remained within me downcast and abashed. I had moved on, and followed willingly The footsteps of my Master, and we both Already showed how light of foot we were, When unto me he said: “Cast down thine eyes; ’Twere well for thee, to alleviate the way, To look upon the bed beneath thy feet.” As, that some memory may exist of them, Above the buried dead their tombs in earth 736 Bear sculptured on them what they were before; Whence often there we weep for them afresh, From pricking of remembrance, which alone To the compassionate doth set its spur;