And looked at me, and knew me, and called out,
  Keeping his eyes laboriously fixed
  On me, who all bowed down was going with them.

"O," asked I him, "art thou not Oderisi,
  Agobbio's honour, and honour of that art
  Which is in Paris called illuminating?"

"Brother," said he, "more laughing are the leaves
  Touched by the brush of Franco Bolognese;
  All his the honour now, and mine in part.

In sooth I had not been so courteous
  While I was living, for the great desire
  Of excellence, on which my heart was bent.

Here of such pride is paid the forfeiture;
  And yet I should not be here, were it not
  That, having power to sin, I turned to God.

O thou vain glory of the human powers,
  How little green upon thy summit lingers,
  If't be not followed by an age of grossness!

In painting Cimabue thought that he
  Should hold the field, now Giotto has the cry,
  So that the other's fame is growing dim.

So has one Guido from the other taken
  The glory of our tongue, and he perchance
  Is born, who from the nest shall chase them both.

Naught is this mundane rumour but a breath
  Of wind, that comes now this way and now that,
  And changes name, because it changes side.

What fame shalt thou have more, if old peel off
  From thee thy flesh, than if thou hadst been dead
  Before thou left the 'pappo' and the 'dindi,'

Ere pass a thousand years? which is a shorter
  Space to the eterne, than twinkling of an eye
  Unto the circle that in heaven wheels slowest.

With him, who takes so little of the road
  In front of me, all Tuscany resounded;
  And now he scarce is lisped of in Siena,

Where he was lord, what time was overthrown
  The Florentine delirium, that superb
  Was at that day as now 'tis prostitute.

Your reputation is the colour of grass
  Which comes and goes, and that discolours it
  By which it issues green from out the earth."

And I: "Thy true speech fills my heart with good
  Humility, and great tumour thou assuagest;
  But who is he, of whom just now thou spakest?"

"That," he replied, "is Provenzan Salvani,
  And he is here because he had presumed
  To bring Siena all into his hands.

He has gone thus, and goeth without rest
  E'er since he died; such money renders back
  In payment he who is on earth too daring."

And I: "If every spirit who awaits
  The verge of life before that he repent,
  Remains below there and ascends not hither,

(Unless good orison shall him bestead,)
  Until as much time as he lived be passed,
  How was the coming granted him in largess?"

"When he in greatest splendour lived," said he,
  "Freely upon the Campo of Siena,
  All shame being laid aside, he placed himself;

And there to draw his friend from the duress
  Which in the prison-house of Charles he suffered,
  He brought himself to tremble in each vein.

I say no more, and know that I speak darkly;
  Yet little time shall pass before thy neighbours
  Will so demean themselves that thou canst gloss it.

This action has released him from those confines."