Whence issued forth the blood by Judas sold, Under the name that most endures and honors, Was I on earth,” that spirit made reply, “Greatly renowned, but not with faith as yet. My vocal spirit was so sweet, that Rome Me, a Thoulousian, drew unto herself, 953 Where I deserved to deck my brows with myrtle. Statius the people name me still on earth; I sang of Thebes, and then of great Achilles; But on the way fell with my second burden. The seeds unto my ardor were the sparks Of that celestial flame which heated me, Whereby more than a thousand have been fired; Of the Aeneid speak I, which to me A mother was, and was my nurse in song; Without this weighed I not a drachma’s weight. And to have lived upon the earth what time Virgilius lived, I would accept one sun 954 More than I must ere issuing from my ban.” These words towards me made Virgilius turn With looks that in their silence said, “Be silent!” But yet the power that wills cannot do all things;