Within a hundred spirits and more there sat. 
“In Exitu Israel de Aegypto;”
All with one voice together sang, with what
In the remainder of that hymn is writ. 
Then soon as with the sign of holy cross
He bless’d them, they at once leap’d out on land,
The swiftly as he came return’d.  The crew,
There left, appear’d astounded with the place,
Gazing around as one who sees new sights.

From every side the sun darted his beams,
And with his arrowy radiance from mid heav’n
Had chas’d the Capricorn, when that strange tribe
Lifting their eyes towards us:  “If ye know,
Declare what path will Lead us to the mount.”

Them Virgil answer’d.  “Ye suppose perchance
Us well acquainted with this place:  but here,
We, as yourselves, are strangers.  Not long erst
We came, before you but a little space,
By other road so rough and hard, that now
The’ ascent will seem to us as play.”  The spirits,
Who from my breathing had perceiv’d I liv’d,
Grew pale with wonder.  As the multitude
Flock round a herald, sent with olive branch,
To hear what news he brings, and in their haste
Tread one another down, e’en so at sight
Of me those happy spirits were fix’d, each one
Forgetful of its errand, to depart,
Where cleans’d from sin, it might be made all fair.

Then one I saw darting before the rest
With such fond ardour to embrace me, I
To do the like was mov’d.  O shadows vain
Except in outward semblance! thrice my hands
I clasp’d behind it, they as oft return’d
Empty into my breast again.  Surprise
I needs must think was painted in my looks,
For that the shadow smil’d and backward drew. 
To follow it I hasten’d, but with voice
Of sweetness it enjoin’d me to desist. 
Then who it was I knew, and pray’d of it,
To talk with me, it would a little pause. 
It answered:  “Thee as in my mortal frame
I lov’d, so loos’d forth it I love thee still,
And therefore pause; but why walkest thou here?”

“Not without purpose once more to return,
Thou find’st me, my Casella, where I am
Journeying this way;” I said, “but how of thee
Hath so much time been lost?” He answer’d straight: 
“No outrage hath been done to me, if he
Who when and whom he chooses takes, me oft
This passage hath denied, since of just will
His will he makes.  These three months past indeed,
He, whose chose to enter, with free leave
Hath taken; whence I wand’ring by the shore
Where Tyber’s wave grows salt, of him gain’d kind
Admittance, at that river’s mouth, tow’rd which
His wings are pointed, for there always throng
All such as not to Archeron descend.”

Then I:  “If new laws have not quite destroy’d
Memory and use of that sweet song of love,
That while all my cares had power to ’swage;
Please thee with it a little to console
My spirit, that incumber’d with its frame,
Travelling so far, of pain is overcome.”