My comfort stood:  and the bright sun was now
More than two hours aloft:  and to the sea
My looks were turn’d.  “Fear not,” my master cried,
“Assur’d we are at happy point.  Thy strength
Shrink not, but rise dilated.  Thou art come
To Purgatory now.  Lo! there the cliff
That circling bounds it!  Lo! the entrance there,
Where it doth seem disparted!  Ere the dawn
Usher’d the daylight, when thy wearied soul
Slept in thee, o’er the flowery vale beneath
A lady came, and thus bespake me:  “I
Am Lucia.  Suffer me to take this man,
Who slumbers.  Easier so his way shall speed.” 
Sordello and the other gentle shapes
Tarrying, she bare thee up:  and, as day shone,
This summit reach’d:  and I pursued her steps. 
Here did she place thee.  First her lovely eyes
That open entrance show’d me; then at once
She vanish’d with thy sleep.”  Like one, whose doubts
Are chas’d by certainty, and terror turn’d
To comfort on discovery of the truth,
Such was the change in me:  and as my guide
Beheld me fearless, up along the cliff
He mov’d, and I behind him, towards the height. 
     Reader! thou markest how my theme doth rise,
Nor wonder therefore, if more artfully
I prop the structure!  Nearer now we drew,
Arriv’d’ whence in that part, where first a breach
As of a wall appear’d, I could descry
A portal, and three steps beneath, that led
For inlet there, of different colour each,
And one who watch’d, but spake not yet a word. 
As more and more mine eye did stretch its view,
I mark’d him seated on the highest step,
In visage such, as past my power to bear. 
Grasp’d in his hand a naked sword, glanc’d back
The rays so toward me, that I oft in vain
My sight directed.  “Speak from whence ye stand:” 
He cried:  “What would ye?  Where is your escort? 
Take heed your coming upward harm ye not.” 
     “A heavenly dame, not skilless of these things,”
Replied the’ instructor, “told us, even now,
’Pass that way:  here the gate is.” —­“And may she
Befriending prosper your ascent,” resum’d
The courteous keeper of the gate:  “Come then
Before our steps.”  We straightway thither came. 
     The lowest stair was marble white so smooth
And polish’d, that therein my mirror’d form
Distinct I saw.  The next of hue more dark
Than sablest grain, a rough and singed block,
Crack’d lengthwise and across.  The third, that lay
Massy above, seem’d porphyry, that flam’d
Red as the life-blood spouting from a vein. 
On this God’s angel either foot sustain’d,
Upon the threshold seated, which appear’d
A rock of diamond.  Up the trinal steps
My leader cheerily drew me.  “Ask,” said he,
     “With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt.” 
     Piously at his holy feet devolv’d
I cast me, praying him for pity’s sake
That he would open to me:  but first fell