To orange turn’d as she in age increas’d. 
     Meanwhile we linger’d by the water’s brink,
Like men, who, musing on their road, in thought
Journey, while motionless the body rests. 
When lo! as near upon the hour of dawn,
Through the thick vapours Mars with fiery beam
Glares down in west, over the ocean floor;
So seem’d, what once again I hope to view,
A light so swiftly coming through the sea,
No winged course might equal its career. 
From which when for a space I had withdrawn
Thine eyes, to make inquiry of my guide,
Again I look’d and saw it grown in size
And brightness:  thou on either side appear’d
Something, but what I knew not of bright hue,
And by degrees from underneath it came
Another.  My preceptor silent yet
Stood, while the brightness, that we first discern’d,
Open’d the form of wings:  then when he knew
The pilot, cried aloud, “Down, down; bend low
Thy knees; behold God’s angel:  fold thy hands: 
Now shalt thou see true Ministers indeed. 
Lo how all human means he sets at naught! 
So that nor oar he needs, nor other sail
Except his wings, between such distant shores. 
Lo how straight up to heaven he holds them rear’d,
Winnowing the air with those eternal plumes,
That not like mortal hairs fall off or change!”
     As more and more toward us came, more bright
Appear’d the bird of God, nor could the eye
Endure his splendor near:  I mine bent down. 
He drove ashore in a small bark so swift
And light, that in its course no wave it drank. 
The heav’nly steersman at the prow was seen,
Visibly written blessed in his looks. 
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,