I for thy favour will to her return,
If mention there below thou not disdain.” 
     “Marcia so pleasing in my sight was found,”
He then to him rejoin’d, “while I was there,
That all she ask’d me I was fain to grant. 
Now that beyond the’ accursed stream she dwells,
She may no longer move me, by that law,
Which was ordain’d me, when I issued thence. 
Not so, if Dame from heaven, as thou sayst,
Moves and directs thee; then no flattery needs. 
Enough for me that in her name thou ask. 
Go therefore now:  and with a slender reed
See that thou duly gird him, and his face
Lave, till all sordid stain thou wipe from thence. 
For not with eye, by any cloud obscur’d,
Would it be seemly before him to come,
Who stands the foremost minister in heaven. 
This islet all around, there far beneath,
Where the wave beats it, on the oozy bed
Produces store of reeds.  No other plant,
Cover’d with leaves, or harden’d in its stalk,
There lives, not bending to the water’s sway. 
After, this way return not; but the sun
Will show you, that now rises, where to take
The mountain in its easiest ascent.” 
     He disappear’d; and I myself uprais’d
Speechless, and to my guide retiring close,
Toward him turn’d mine eyes.  He thus began;
“My son! observant thou my steps pursue. 
We must retreat to rearward, for that way
The champain to its low extreme declines.” 
     The dawn had chas’d the matin hour of prime,
Which deaf before it, so that from afar
I spy’d the trembling of the ocean stream. 
     We travers’d the deserted plain, as one
Who, wander’d from his track, thinks every step
Trodden in vain till he regain the path. 
     When we had come, where yet the tender dew
Strove with the sun, and in a place, where fresh
The wind breath’d o’er it, while it slowly dried;
Both hands extended on the watery grass
My master plac’d, in graceful act and kind. 
Whence I of his intent before appriz’d,
Stretch’d out to him my cheeks suffus’d with tears. 
There to my visage he anew restor’d
That hue, which the dun shades of hell conceal’d. 
     Then on the solitary shore arriv’d,
That never sailing on its waters saw
Man, that could after measure back his course,
He girt me in such manner as had pleas’d
Him who instructed, and O, strange to tell! 
As he selected every humble plant,
Wherever one was pluck’d, another there
Resembling, straightway in its place arose.

CANTO II

Now had the sun to that horizon reach’d,
That covers, with the most exalted point
Of its meridian circle, Salem’s walls,
And night, that opposite to him her orb
Sounds, from the stream of Ganges issued forth,
Holding the scales, that from her hands are dropp’d
When she reigns highest:  so that where I was,
Aurora’s white and vermeil-tinctur’d cheek