May the religion of the mountain feel, Nor aught that may be foreign to its custom. Free is it here from every permutation; What from itself heaven in itself receiveth 948 Can be of this the cause, and naught beside; Because that neither rain, nor hail, nor snow, Nor dew, nor hoar-frost any higher falls Than the short, little stairway of three steps. 949 Dense clouds do not appear, nor rarefied, Nor coruscation, nor the daughter of Thaumas, 950 That often upon earth her region shifts; No arid vapor any farther rises Than to the top of the three steps I spake of, Whereon the Vicar of Peter has his feet. Lower down perchance it trembles less or more, But, for the wind that in the earth is hidden I know not how, up here it never trembled. It trembles here, whenever any soul Feels itself pure, so that it soars, or moves To mount aloft, and such a cry attends it. Of purity the will alone gives proof,