While on the brink thus one before the other
  We went upon our way, oft the good Master
  Said: "Take thou heed! suffice it that I warn thee."

On the right shoulder smote me now the sun,
  That, raying out, already the whole west
  Changed from its azure aspect into white.

And with my shadow did I make the flame
  Appear more red; and even to such a sign
  Shades saw I many, as they went, give heed.

This was the cause that gave them a beginning
  To speak of me; and to themselves began they
  To say: "That seems not a factitious body!"

Then towards me, as far as they could come,
  Came certain of them, always with regard
  Not to step forth where they would not be burned.

"O thou who goest, not from being slower
  But reverent perhaps, behind the others,
  Answer me, who in thirst and fire am burning.

Nor to me only is thine answer needful;
  For all of these have greater thirst for it
  Than for cold water Ethiop or Indian.

Tell us how is it that thou makest thyself
  A wall unto the sun, as if thou hadst not
  Entered as yet into the net of death."

Thus one of them addressed me, and I straight
  Should have revealed myself, were I not bent
  On other novelty that then appeared.

For through the middle of the burning road
  There came a people face to face with these,
  Which held me in suspense with gazing at them.

There see I hastening upon either side
  Each of the shades, and kissing one another
  Without a pause, content with brief salute.

Thus in the middle of their brown battalions
  Muzzle to muzzle one ant meets another
  Perchance to spy their journey or their fortune.

No sooner is the friendly greeting ended,
  Or ever the first footstep passes onward,
  Each one endeavours to outcry the other;

The new-come people: "Sodom and Gomorrah!"
  The rest: "Into the cow Pasiphae enters,
  So that the bull unto her lust may run!"

Then as the cranes, that to Riphaean mountains
  Might fly in part, and part towards the sands,
  These of the frost, those of the sun avoidant,

One folk is going, and the other coming,
  And weeping they return to their first songs,
  And to the cry that most befitteth them;

And close to me approached, even as before,
  The very same who had entreated me,
  Attent to listen in their countenance.

I, who their inclination twice had seen,
  Began: "O souls secure in the possession,
  Whene'er it may be, of a state of peace,

Neither unripe nor ripened have remained
  My members upon earth, but here are with me
  With their own blood and their articulations.

I go up here to be no longer blind;
  A Lady is above, who wins this grace,
  Whereby the mortal through your world I bring.

But as your greatest longing satisfied
  May soon become, so that the Heaven may house you
  Which full of love is, and most amply spreads,

Tell me, that I again in books may write it,
  Who are you, and what is that multitude
  Which goes upon its way behind your backs?"

Not otherwise with wonder is bewildered
  The mountaineer, and staring round is dumb,
  When rough and rustic to the town he goes,

Than every shade became in its appearance;
  But when they of their stupor were disburdened,
  Which in high hearts is quickly quieted,

"Blessed be thou, who of our border-lands,"
  He recommenced who first had questioned us,
  "Experience freightest for a better life.

The folk that comes not with us have offended
  In that for which once Caesar, triumphing,
  Heard himself called in contumely, 'Queen.'