What Saracens, for whom there needed scourge
Of spiritual or other discipline,
To force them walk with cov’ring on their limbs! 
But did they see, the shameless ones, that Heav’n
Wafts on swift wing toward them, while I speak,
Their mouths were op’d for howling:  they shall taste
Of Borrow (unless foresight cheat me here)
Or ere the cheek of him be cloth’d with down
Who is now rock’d with lullaby asleep. 
Ah! now, my brother, hide thyself no more,
Thou seest how not I alone but all
Gaze, where thou veil’st the intercepted sun.”

Whence I replied:  “If thou recall to mind
What we were once together, even yet
Remembrance of those days may grieve thee sore. 
That I forsook that life, was due to him
Who there precedes me, some few evenings past,
When she was round, who shines with sister lamp
To his, that glisters yonder,” and I show’d
The sun.  “Tis he, who through profoundest night
Of he true dead has brought me, with this flesh
As true, that follows.  From that gloom the aid
Of his sure comfort drew me on to climb,
And climbing wind along this mountain-steep,
Which rectifies in you whate’er the world
Made crooked and deprav’d I have his word,
That he will bear me company as far
As till I come where Beatrice dwells: 
But there must leave me.  Virgil is that spirit,
Who thus hath promis’d,” and I pointed to him;
“The other is that shade, for whom so late
Your realm, as he arose, exulting shook
Through every pendent cliff and rocky bound.”

CANTO XXIV

Our journey was not slacken’d by our talk,
Nor yet our talk by journeying.  Still we spake,
And urg’d our travel stoutly, like a ship
When the wind sits astern.  The shadowy forms,

That seem’d things dead and dead again, drew in
At their deep-delved orbs rare wonder of me,
Perceiving I had life; and I my words
Continued, and thus spake; “He journeys up
Perhaps more tardily then else he would,
For others’ sake.  But tell me, if thou know’st,
Where is Piccarda?  Tell me, if I see
Any of mark, among this multitude,
Who eye me thus.”—­“My sister (she for whom,
’Twixt beautiful and good I cannot say
Which name was fitter ) wears e’en now her crown,
And triumphs in Olympus.”  Saying this,
He added:  “Since spare diet hath so worn
Our semblance out, ’t is lawful here to name
Each one.  This,” and his finger then he rais’d,
“Is Buonaggiuna,—­Buonaggiuna, he
Of Lucca:  and that face beyond him, pierc’d
Unto a leaner fineness than the rest,
Had keeping of the church:  he was of Tours,
And purges by wan abstinence away
Bolsena’s eels and cups of muscadel.”