Thus he said to us, and since one enjoys drinking in proportion as the thirst is great, I could not say how much he did me good. And the sage Leader, “Now I see the net which snares you here, and how it is unmeshed; wherefore it trembles here; and for what ye rejoice together. Now who thou wast may it please thee that I know, and that from thy words I learn why for so many centuries thou hast lain here?” “At the time when the good Titus, with the aid of the Most High King, avenged the wounds wherefrom issued the blood sold by Judas, I was fatuous enough on earth with the name which lasts longest, and honors most,”[1] replied that spirit, “but not as yet with faith. So sweet was my vocal spirit, that me of Toulouse Rome drew to itself, where I deserved to adorn my temples with myrtle. Statius the people still on earth name me. I sang of Thebes, and then of the great Achilles, but I fell on the way with my second load.[2] Seed of my ardor were the sparks that warmed me of the divine flame whereby more than a thousand have been kindled; I speak of the Aeneid, which was mother to me, and was my nurse in poesy: without it I balanced not the weight of a drachm; and to have lived yonder, when Virgil lived, I would agree to one sun more than I owe for my issue from ban.”[3] [1] The name of Poet. [2] Statius died before completing his Achilleid. [3] A year more in Purgatory than is due for my punishment. These words turned Virgil to me with a look which, silent, said, “Be silent:” but the power that wills cannot do everything; for smiles and tears are such followers on the emotion from which each springs, that in the most truthful they least follow the will. I merely smiled, like a man who makes a sign; whereat the shade became silent, and looked at me in the eyes where the expression is most fixed. And it said, “So mayst thou in good complete so great a labor, why aid thy face just now display to me a flash of a smile?” Now am I caught on one side and the other: one bids me be silent, the other conjures me to speak; wherefore I sigh and am understood by my Master, and “Have no fear to speak,” he said to me, “but speak, and tell him what he asks so earnestly.” Whereon I, “Perhaps thou marvellest, ancient spirit, at the smile I gave; but I would have more wonder seize thee. This one who guides my eyes on high is that Virgil from whom thou didst derive the strength to sing of men and of the gods. If thou didst believe other cause for my smile, dismiss it as untrue, and believe it to be those words which thou saidst of him.” Already he was stooping to embrace the feet of my Leader, but he said to him, “Brother, do it not, for thou art a shade, and thou seest a shade.” And he rising, “Now canst thou comprehend the sum of the love that warms me to thee when I forget our vanity, treating the shades as if a solid thing.”[1]