Purgatorio: Canto V I had already from those shades departed, And followed in the footsteps of my Guide, When from behind, pointing his finger at me, One shouted: “See, it seems as if shone not The sunshine on the left of him below, And like one living seems he to conduct him.” Mine eyes I turned at utterance of these words, And saw them watching with astonishment But me, but me, and the light which was broken! “Why doth thy mind so occupy itself,” The Master said, “that thou thy pace dost slacken? What matters it to thee what here is whispered? Come after me, and let the people talk; Stand like a steadfast tower, that never wags Its top for all the blowing of the winds; For evermore the man in whom is springing Thought upon thought, removes from him the mark, Because the force of one the other weakens.” What could I say in answer but “I come”? I said it somewhat with that colour tinged Which makes a man of pardon sometimes worthy. Meanwhile along the mountain-side across Came people in advance of us a little, Singing the Miserere verse by verse. When they became aware I gave no place For passage of the sunshine through my body, They changed their song into a long, hoarse “Oh!” And two of them, in form of messengers, Ran forth to meet us, and demanded of us, “Of your condition make us cognisant.” And said my Master: “Ye can go your way And carry back again to those who sent you, That this one’s body is of very flesh. If they stood still because they saw his shadow, As I suppose, enough is answered them; Him let them honour, it may profit them.” Vapours enkindled saw I ne’er so swiftly At early nightfall cleave the air serene, Nor, at the set of sun, the clouds of August, But upward they returned in briefer time, And, on arriving, with the others wheeled Tow’rds us, like troops that run without a rein. “This folk that presses unto us is great, And cometh to implore thee,” said the Poet; “So still go onward, and in going listen.” “O soul that goest to beatitude With the same members wherewith thou wast born,” Shouting they came, “a little stay thy steps, Look, if thou e’er hast any of us seen, So that o’er yonder thou bear news of him; Ah, why dost thou go on? Ah, why not stay? Long since we all were slain by violence, And sinners even to the latest hour; Then did a light from heaven admonish us, So that, both penitent and pardoning, forth From life we issued reconciled to God, Who with desire to see Him stirs our hearts.” And I: “Although I gaze into your faces, No one I recognize; but if may please you Aught I have power to do, ye well-born spirits, Speak ye, and I will do it, by that peace Which, following the feet of such a Guide, From world to world makes itself sought by me.”