"Thou shalt leave each thing Beloved most dearly: this is the first shaft Shot from the bow of exile. Thou shalt prove How salt the savor is of other's bread; How hard the passage, to descend and climb By other's stairs. But that shall gall thee most, Will be the worthless and vile company, With whom thou must be thrown into these straits. For all ungrateful, impious all, and mad, Shall turn 'gainst thee: but in a little while, Theirs, and not thine, shall be the crimson'd brow, Their course shall so evince their brutishness, To have ta'en thy stand apart shall well become thee. "First refuge thou must find, first place of rest, In the great Lombard's courtesy, who bears, Upon the ladder perch'd, the sacred bird. He shall behold thee with such kind regard, That 'twixt ye two, the contrary to that Which 'falls 'twixt other men, the granting shall Forerun the asking." We see from these lines that Dante first went to Verona, the seat of Bartolommeo della Scala (the "great Lombard," whose coat of arms was a ladder "scala," with an eagle perched upon it). From there he went to Bologna, thence to Padua, and thence to the Lunigiana. It is about this time that he is said to have gone to Paris (this is probable), and to Germany, Flanders, and England; it is not at all probable that he ever saw the last-mentioned place. Dante never gave up altogether the hope that he might one day return to Florence. He yearned all his life for the "beautiful sheep-fold" where he had lived as a lamb. Yet even this happiness he would not accept at the price of dishonor. When, in 1312, a general amnesty was proclaimed by Florence, and he might have returned if he would consent to certain humiliating conditions, he wrote the following noble words to a friend in Florence: "This is not the way of coming home, my father! Yet, if you or other find one not beneath the fame of Dante and his honor, that will I gladly pursue. But if by no such way can I enter Florence, then Florence shall I never enter. And what then! Can I not behold the sun and the stars from every spot of earth? Shall I not be able to meditate on the sweetest truths in every place beneath the sky, unless I make myself ignoble, yea, ignominious to the people and state of Florence? Nor shall bread be wanting." A great hope rose above the horizon of his life when Henry VII., of Luxemburg, came to Italy to restore the ancient power of the empire. Dante's letters written at this time are couched in exultant, almost extravagant, language: "Rejoice, Oh! Italy," he cries, "for thy bridegroom, the comfort of the world, and the glory of the people, the most merciful Henry, the divine Augustus and Cæsar is hastening hither to the wedding feast." His joy and exultation, alas! were doomed to a speedy end.