And lovely, I besought her to command,
Call’d me; her eyes were brighter than the star
Of day; and she with gentle voice and soft
Angelically tun’d her speech address’d: 
“O courteous shade of Mantua! thou whose fame
Yet lives, and shall live long as nature lasts! 
A friend, not of my fortune but myself,
On the wide desert in his road has met
Hindrance so great, that he through fear has turn’d. 
Now much I dread lest he past help have stray’d,
And I be ris’n too late for his relief,
From what in heaven of him I heard.  Speed now,
And by thy eloquent persuasive tongue,
And by all means for his deliverance meet,
Assist him.  So to me will comfort spring. 
I who now bid thee on this errand forth
Am Beatrice; from a place I come

(Note:  Beatrice.  I use this word, as it is pronounced in the Italian, as consisting of four syllables, of which the third is a long one.)

Revisited with joy.  Love brought me thence,
Who prompts my speech.  When in my Master’s sight
I stand, thy praise to him I oft will tell.” 
     She then was silent, and I thus began: 
“O Lady! by whose influence alone,
Mankind excels whatever is contain’d
Within that heaven which hath the smallest orb,
So thy command delights me, that to obey,
If it were done already, would seem late. 
No need hast thou farther to speak thy will;
Yet tell the reason, why thou art not loth
To leave that ample space, where to return
Thou burnest, for this centre here beneath.” 
     She then:  “Since thou so deeply wouldst inquire,
I will instruct thee briefly, why no dread
Hinders my entrance here.  Those things alone
Are to be fear’d, whence evil may proceed,
None else, for none are terrible beside. 
I am so fram’d by God, thanks to his grace! 
That any suff’rance of your misery
Touches me not, nor flame of that fierce fire
Assails me.  In high heaven a blessed dame
Besides, who mourns with such effectual grief
That hindrance, which I send thee to remove,
That God’s stern judgment to her will inclines. 
To Lucia calling, her she thus bespake: 
“Now doth thy faithful servant need thy aid
And I commend him to thee.”  At her word
Sped Lucia, of all cruelty the foe,
And coming to the place, where I abode
Seated with Rachel, her of ancient days,
She thus address’d me:  “Thou true praise of God! 
Beatrice! why is not thy succour lent
To him, who so much lov’d thee, as to leave
For thy sake all the multitude admires? 
Dost thou not hear how pitiful his wail,
Nor mark the death, which in the torrent flood,
Swoln mightier than a sea, him struggling holds?”
Ne’er among men did any with such speed
Haste to their profit, flee from their annoy,
As when these words were spoken, I came here,
Down from my blessed seat, trusting the force
Of thy pure eloquence, which thee, and all