As when he vibrates forth his earliest rays, 1054 In regions where his Maker shed his blood, 1055 (The Ebro falling under lofty Libra, And waters in the Ganges burnt with noon,) So stood the Sun; hence was the day departing, When the glad Angel of God appeared to us. Outside the flame he stood upon the verge, And chanted forth, “ Beati mundo corde ,” 1056 In voice by far more living than our own. Then: “No one farther goes, souls sanctified, If first the fire bite not; within it enter, And be not deaf unto the song beyond.” When we were close beside him thus he said; Wherefore e’en such became I, when I heard him, As he is who is put into the grave. Upon my clasped hands I straightened me, 1057 Scanning the fire, and vividly recalling The human bodies I had once seen burned.