“Truly, my Master,” said I, “never yet Saw I so clearly as I now discern, There where my wit appeared incompetent, That the mid-circle of supernal motion, Which in some art is the Equator called, And aye remains between the Sun and Winter, For reason which thou sayest, departeth hence Tow’rds the Septentrion, what time the Hebrews Beheld it tow’rds the region of the heat. But, if it pleaseth thee, I fain would learn How far we have to go; for the hill rises Higher than eyes of mine have power to rise.” And he to me: “This mount is such, that ever At the beginning down below ’tis tiresome, And aye the more one climbs, the less it hurts. Therefore, when it shall seem so pleasant to thee, That going up shall be to thee as easy As going down the current in a boat, Then at this pathway’s ending thou wilt be; There to repose thy panting breath expect; No more I answer; and this I know for true.” And as he finished uttering these words, A voice close by us sounded: “Peradventure Thou wilt have need of sitting down ere that.” At sound thereof each one of us turned round, And saw upon the left hand a great rock, Which neither I nor he before had noticed. Thither we drew; and there were persons there Who in the shadow stood behind the rock, As one through indolence is wont to stand. And one of them, who seemed to me fatigued, Was sitting down, and both his knees embraced, Holding his face low down between them bowed. “O my sweet Lord,” I said, “do turn thine eye On him who shows himself more negligent Then even Sloth herself his sister were.” Then he turned round to us, and he gave heed, Just lifting up his eyes above his thigh, And said: “Now go thou up, for thou art valiant.” Then knew I who he was; and the distress, That still a little did my breathing quicken, My going to him hindered not; and after I came to him he hardly raised his head, Saying: “Hast thou seen clearly how the sun O’er thy left shoulder drives his chariot?” His sluggish attitude and his curt words A little unto laughter moved my lips; Then I began: “Belacqua, I grieve not For thee henceforth; but tell me, wherefore seated In this place art thou? Waitest thou an escort? Or has thy usual habit seized upon thee?” And he: “O brother, what’s the use of climbing? Since to my torment would not let me go The Angel of God, who sitteth at the gate. First heaven must needs so long revolve me round Outside thereof, as in my life it did, Since the good sighs I to the end postponed, Unless, e’er that, some prayer may bring me aid Which rises from a heart that lives in grace; What profit others that in heaven are heard not?” Meanwhile the Poet was before me mounting, And saying: “Come now; see the sun has touched Meridian, and from the shore the night Covers already with her foot Morocco.”