act, my mind, which at first had been restrained, let loose its
attention, as though eager, and I turned my face unto the hill
that towards the heaven rises highest from the sea. The sun,
which behind was flaming ruddy, was broken in front of me by the
figure that the staying of its rays upon me formed. When I saw
the ground darkened only in front of me, I turned me to my side
with fear of being abandoned: and my Comfort, wholly turning to
me, began to say, "Why dost thou still distrust? Dost thou not
believe me with thee, and that I guide thee? It is now evening
there where the body is buried within which I cast a shadow;
Naples holds it, and from Brundusium it is taken; if now in front
of me there is no shadow, marvel not more than at the heavens of
which one hinders not the other's radiance. To suffer torments,
both hot and cold, bodies like this the Power ordains, which
wills not that how it acts be revealed to us. Mad is he who hopes
that our reason can traverse the infinite way which One Substance
in Three Persons holds. Be content, human race, with the
quia;[1]; for if ye had been able to see everything, need had not
been for Mary to hear child: and ye have seen desiring
fruitlessly men such [2] that their desire would have been
quieted, which is given them eternally for a grief. I speak of
Aristotle and of Plato, and of many others;" and here he bowed
his front, and said no more, and remained disturbed.

[1] Quic is used here, as often in mediaeval Latin, for quod. The
meaning is, Be content to know that the thing is, seek not to
know WHY or HOW--propter quid--it is as it is.

[2] If human knowledge sufficed.


We had come, meanwhile, to the foot of the mountain; here we
found the rock so steep, that there the legs would be agile in
vain. Between Lerici and Turbia[1] the most deserted, the most
secluded way is a stair easy and open, compared with that. "Now
who knows on which hand the hillside slopes," said my Master,
staying his step, "so that he can ascend who goeth without
wings?"

[1] Lerici on the Gulf of Spezzia, and Turbia, just above Monaco,
are at the two ends of the Riviera; between them the mountains
rise steeply from the shore, along which in Dante's time there
was no road.


And while he was holding his face low, questioning his mind about
the road, and I was looking up around the rock, on the left hand
appeared to me a company of souls who were moving their feet
towards us, and seemed not, so slowly were they coming. "Lift,"
said I to the Master, "thine eyes, lo! on this side who will give
us counsel, if thou from thyself canst not have it." He looked at
them, and with air of relief, answered, "Let us go thither, for
they come slowly, and do thou confirm thy hope, sweet son.

That people was still as far, I mean after a thousand steps of
ours, as a good thrower would cast with his hand, when they all
pressed up to the hard masses of the high bank, and stood still
and close, as one who goes in doubt stops to look.[1] "O ye who
have made good ends, O spirits already elect," Virgil began, "by
that peace which I believe is awaited by you all, tell us, where
the mountain lies so that the going up is possible; for to lose
time is most displeasing to him who knows most."

[1] They stopped, surprised, at seeing Virgil and Dante advancing
to the left, against the rule in Purgatory, where the course is
always to the right, symbolizing progress in good. In Hell the
contrary rule holds.


As the sheep come forth from the fold by ones, and twos, and
threes, and the others stand timid, holding eye and muzzle to the
ground; and what the first does the others also do, huddling
themselves to her if she stop, silly and quiet, and wherefore
know not; so I saw then moving to approach, the head of that
fortunate flock, modest in face and dignified in gait.

When those in front saw the light broken on the ground at my
right side, so that the shadow fell from me on the cliff, they
stopped, and drew somewhat back; and all the rest who were coming
behind, not knowing why, did just the same. "Without your
asking, I confess to you that this is a human body which you see,
whereby the light of the sun on the ground is cleft. Marvel not
thereat, but believe that not without power that comes from
heaven he seeks to surmount this wall." Thus the Master:and that
worthy people said, "Turn, enter in advance, then;" with the
backs of their hands making sign. And one of them began, "Whoever
thou art, turn thy face as thou thus goest; consider if in the
world thou didst ever see me?" I turned me toward him, and looked
at him fixedly: blond he was, and beautiful, and of gentle
aspect, but a blow had divided one of his eyebrows.

When I had humbly disclaimed having ever seen him, he said, "Now
look!" and he showed me a wound at the top of his breast. Then he
said, smiling, "I am Manfred,[1] grandson of the Empress
Constance; wherefore I pray thee, that when thou returnest, thou
go to my beautiful daughter,[2] mother of the honor of Sicily and
of Aragon, and tell to her the truth if aught else be told. After
I had my body broken by two mortal stabs, I rendered myself,
weeping, to Him who pardons willingly. Horrible were my sins, but
the Infinite Goodness has such wide arms that it takes whatever


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