not what spirits
Are these, which thou beholdest?  Ere thou pass
Farther, I would thou know, that these of sin
Were blameless; and if aught they merited,
It profits not, since baptism was not theirs,
The portal to thy faith.  If they before
The Gospel liv’d, they serv’d not God aright;
And among such am I. For these defects,
And for no other evil, we are lost;
Only so far afflicted, that we live
Desiring without hope.”  So grief assail’d
My heart at hearing this, for well I knew
Suspended in that Limbo many a soul
Of mighty worth.  “O tell me, sire rever’d! 
Tell me, my master!” I began through wish
Of full assurance in that holy faith,
Which vanquishes all error; “say, did e’er
Any, or through his own or other’s merit,
Come forth from thence, whom afterward was blest?”
     Piercing the secret purport of my speech,
He answer’d:  “I was new to that estate,
When I beheld a puissant one arrive
Amongst us, with victorious trophy crown’d. 
He forth the shade of our first parent drew,
Abel his child, and Noah righteous man,
Of Moses lawgiver for faith approv’d,
Of patriarch Abraham, and David king,
Israel with his sire and with his sons,
Nor without Rachel whom so hard he won,
And others many more, whom he to bliss
Exalted.  Before these, be thou assur’d,
No spirit of human kind was ever sav’d.” 
     We, while he spake, ceas’d not our onward road,
Still passing through the wood; for so I name
Those spirits thick beset.  We were not far
On this side from the summit, when I kenn’d
A flame, that o’er the darken’d hemisphere
Prevailing shin’d.  Yet we a little space
Were distant, not so far but I in part
Discover’d, that a tribe in honour high
That place possess’d.  “O thou, who every art
And science valu’st! who are these, that boast
Such honour, separate from all the rest?”
     He answer’d:  “The renown of their great names
That echoes through your world above, acquires
Favour in heaven, which holds them thus advanc’d.” 
Meantime a voice I heard:  “Honour the bard
Sublime! his shade returns that left us late!”
No sooner ceas’d the sound, than I beheld
Four mighty spirits toward us bend their steps,
Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad. 
     When thus my master kind began:  “Mark him,
Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen,
The other three preceding, as their lord. 
This is that Homer, of all bards supreme: 
Flaccus the next in satire’s vein excelling;
The third is Naso; Lucan is the last. 
Because they all that appellation own,
With which the voice singly accosted me,
Honouring they greet me thus, and well they judge.” 
     So I beheld united the bright school
Of him the monarch of sublimest song,
That o’er the others like an eagle soars. 
When they together short discourse had held,