In fashion, as a snow-white rose, lay then Before my view the saintly multitude, Which in his own blood Christ espous'd. Meanwhile That other host, that soar aloft to gaze And celebrate his glory, whom they love, Hover'd around; and, like a troop of bees, Amid the vernal sweets alighting now, Now, clustering, where their fragrant labour glows, Flew downward to the mighty flow'r, or rose From the redundant petals, streaming back Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy. Faces had they of flame, and wings of gold; The rest was whiter than the driven snow. And as they flitted down into the flower, From range to range, fanning their plumy loins, Whisper'd the peace and ardour, which they won From that soft winnowing. Shadow none, the vast {136} Interposition of such numerous flight Cast, from above, upon the flower, or view Obstructed aught. For, through the universe, Wherever merited, celestial light Glides freely, and no obstacle prevents. No, these lines are not easy to read or to understand. But there is a fascination in reading them, nevertheless. We are able to lay hold of an idea, a picture, a scene, very bright and beautiful, full of light and glory. When you read the lines again, perhaps in a few months, you will find that the picture is clearer, and that the lines will not seem so hard to understand. Most of us like to remember, whether we have read the _Divine Comedy_ or not, that Dante was an Italian poet who lived a long time ago, that he had seen and loved Beatrice in his youth, and that later in his life Dante made a great poem in which he tells of Beatrice, and of life on the other side of death. Some of you, no doubt, have played, when you felt like it, at being knights errant. You have imagined that you were dressed in armour, and that you were mounted on splendid steeds. Then, of course, as knights errant, you had to carry out successfully some hard task or accomplish some brave deed. Once upon a time, almost exactly in the same years during which Shakespeare was living in England, a Spanish writer called Cervantes wrote a book, _The Delightful History of the Most Ingenious Knight Don Quixote of the Mancha_, which tells how a man of fifty resolved that he would be a knight errant.