As when he vibrates forth his earliest rays,
  In regions where his Maker shed his blood,
  (The Ebro falling under lofty Libra,

And waters in the Ganges burnt with noon,)
  So stood the Sun; hence was the day departing,
  When the glad Angel of God appeared to us.

Outside the flame he stood upon the verge,
  And chanted forth, "Beati mundo corde,"
  In voice by far more living than our own.

Then: "No one farther goes, souls sanctified,
  If first the fire bite not; within it enter,
  And be not deaf unto the song beyond."

When we were close beside him thus he said;
  Wherefore e'en such became I, when I heard him,
  As he is who is put into the grave.

Upon my clasped hands I straightened me,
  Scanning the fire, and vividly recalling
  The human bodies I had once seen burned.

Towards me turned themselves my good Conductors,
  And unto me Virgilius said: "My son,
  Here may indeed be torment, but not death.

Remember thee, remember! and if I
  On Geryon have safely guided thee,
  What shall I do now I am nearer God?

Believe for certain, shouldst thou stand a full
  Millennium in the bosom of this flame,
  It could not make thee bald a single hair.

And if perchance thou think that I deceive thee,
  Draw near to it, and put it to the proof
  With thine own hands upon thy garment's hem.

Now lay aside, now lay aside all fear,
  Turn hitherward, and onward come securely;"
  And I still motionless, and 'gainst my conscience!

Seeing me stand still motionless and stubborn,
  Somewhat disturbed he said: "Now look thou, Son,
  'Twixt Beatrice and thee there is this wall."

As at the name of Thisbe oped his lids
  The dying Pyramus, and gazed upon her,
  What time the mulberry became vermilion,

Even thus, my obduracy being softened,
  I turned to my wise Guide, hearing the name
  That in my memory evermore is welling.

Whereat he wagged his head, and said: "How now?
  Shall we stay on this side?" then smiled as one
  Does at a child who's vanquished by an apple.

Then into the fire in front of me he entered,
  Beseeching Statius to come after me,
  Who a long way before divided us.

When I was in it, into molten glass
  I would have cast me to refresh myself,
  So without measure was the burning there!

And my sweet Father, to encourage me,
  Discoursing still of Beatrice went on,
  Saying: "Her eyes I seem to see already!"

A voice, that on the other side was singing,
  Directed us, and we, attent alone
  On that, came forth where the ascent began.

"Venite, benedicti Patris mei,"
  Sounded within a splendour, which was there
  Such it o'ercame me, and I could not look.

"The sun departs," it added, "and night cometh;
  Tarry ye not, but onward urge your steps,
  So long as yet the west becomes not dark."

Straight forward through the rock the path ascended
  In such a way that I cut off the rays
  Before me of the sun, that now was low.

And of few stairs we yet had made assay,
  Ere by the vanished shadow the sun's setting
  Behind us we perceived, I and my Sages.

And ere in all its parts immeasurable
  The horizon of one aspect had become,
  And Night her boundless dispensation held,