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.” Purgatorio: Canto XII Abreast, like oxen going in a yoke, I with that heavy-laden soul went on, As long as the sweet pedagogue permitted; But when he said, “Leave him, and onward pass, For here ’tis good that with the sail and oars, As much as may be, each push on his barque;” Upright, as walking wills it, I redressed My person, notwithstanding that my thoughts Remained within me downcast and abashed. I had moved on, and followed willingly The footsteps of my Master, and we both Already showed how light of foot we were, When unto me he said: “Cast down thine eyes; ’Twere well for thee, to alleviate the way, To look upon the bed beneath thy feet.” As, that some memory may exist of them, Above the buried dead their tombs in earth Bear sculptured on them what they were before; Whence often there we weep for them afresh, From pricking of remembrance, which alone To the compassionate doth set its spur; So saw I there, but of a better semblance In point of artifice, with figures covered Whate’er as pathway from the mount projects. I saw that one who was created noble More than all other creatures, down from heaven Flaming with lightnings fall upon one side. I saw Briareus smitten by the dart Celestial, lying on the other side, Heavy upon the earth by mortal frost.