“O light, O glory of the human race, what water is this which here spreads from one source, and from itself withdraws itself?” To this prayer it was said to me, “Pray Matilda[1] that she tell it to thee;” and here the beautiful Lady answered, as one does who frees himself from blame, “This and other things have been told him by me; and I am sure that the water of Lethe has not hidden them from him.” And Beatrice, “Perhaps a greater care which oftentimes deprives the memory has darkened the eyes of his mind. But see Eunoe,[2] which flows forth yonder, lead him to it, and, as thou art accustomed, revive his extinct power.” As a gentle soul which makes not excuse, but makes its own will of another’s will, soon as by a sign it is outwardly disclosed, even so, when I was taken by her, the beautiful Lady moved on, and to Statius said, with manner of a lady, “Come with him.” [1] Here for the first and only time is the beautiful Lady called by name. [2] Eunoe, “the memory of good,” which its waters restore to the purified soul. The poetic conception of this fair stream is exclusively Dante’s own. If I had, Reader, longer space for writing I would yet partly sing the sweet draught which never would have sated me. But, because all the leaves destined for this second canticle are full, the curb of my art lets me go no further. I returned from the most holy wave, renovated as new plants renewed with new foliage, pure and disposed to mount unto the stars.