There dwell I among those who the three saintly Virtues did not put on, and without vice The others knew and followed all of them. But if thou know and can, some indication Give us by which we may the sooner come Where Purgatory has its right beginning.” He answered: “No fixed place has been assigned us; ’Tis lawful for me to go up and round; So far as I can go, as guide I join thee. But see already how the day declines, And to go up by night we are not able; Therefore ’tis well to think of some fair sojourn. Souls are there on the right hand here withdrawn; If thou permit me I will lead thee to them, And thou shalt know them not without delight.” “How is this?” was the answer; “should one wish To mount by night would he prevented be By others? or mayhap would not have power?” And on the ground the good Sordello drew His finger, saying, “See, this line alone Thou couldst not pass after the sun is gone; Not that aught else would hindrance give, however, To going up, save the nocturnal darkness; This with the want of power the will perplexes. We might indeed therewith return below, And, wandering, walk the hill-side round about, While the horizon holds the day imprisoned.” Thereon my Lord, as if in wonder, said: “Do thou conduct us thither, where thou sayest That we can take delight in tarrying.” Little had we withdrawn us from that place, When I perceived the mount was hollowed out In fashion as the valleys here are hollowed. “Thitherward,” said that shade, “will we repair, Where of itself the hill-side makes a lap, And there for the new day will we await.” ’Twixt hill and plain there was a winding path Which led us to the margin of that dell, Where dies the border more than half away. Gold and fine silver, and scarlet and pearl-white, The Indian wood resplendent and serene, Fresh emerald the moment it is broken, By herbage and by flowers within that hollow Planted, each one in colour would be vanquished, As by its greater vanquished is the less. Nor in that place had nature painted only, But of the sweetness of a thousand odours Made there a mingled fragrance and unknown. “Salve Regina,” on the green and flowers There seated, singing, spirits I beheld, Which were not visible outside the valley. “Before the scanty sun now seeks his nest,” Began the Mantuan who had led us thither, “Among them do not wish me to conduct you. Better from off this ledge the acts and faces Of all of them will you discriminate, Than in the plain below received among them. He who sits highest, and the semblance bears Of having what he should have done neglected, And to the others’ song moves not his lips, Rudolph the Emperor was, who had the power To heal the wounds that Italy have slain, So that through others slowly she revives.