They were going on in front, and I solitary behind, and I was listening to their speech which gave me understanding in poesy. But soon the pleasant discourse was interrupted by a tree which we found in the mid road, with apples sweet and pleasant to the smell. And as a fir-tree tapers upward from branch to branch, so downwardly did that, I think in order that no one may go up. On the side on which our way was closed, a clear water fell from the high rock and spread itself over the heaves above. The two poets approached the tree, and a voice from within the heaves cried: “Of this food ye shall have want.” Then it said, “Mary thought more, how the wedding[1] should be honorable and complete, than of her mouth,[2] which answers now for you; and the ancient Roman women were content with water for their drink; and Daniel despised food and gained wisdom. The primal age, which was beautiful as gold, with hunger made acorns savory, and with thirst every streamlet nectar. Honey and locusts were the viands that nourished the Baptist in the desert, wherefore he is in glory, and so great as by the Gospel is revealed to you. [1] At Cana. [2] Than of gratifying her appetite. CANTO XXIII. Sixth Ledge: the Gluttonous.—Forese Donati.—Nella.—Rebuke of the women of Florence. While I was fixing my eyes upon the green leafage, just as he who wastes his life following the little bird is wont to do, my more than Father said to me, “Son, come on now, for the time that is assigned to us must be parcelled out more usefully.” I turned my face, and no less quickly my step after the Sages, who were speaking so that they made the going of no cost to me; and ho! a lament and song were heard, “Labia mea, Domine,”[1] in such fashion that it gave birth to delight and pain. “O sweet Father, what is that which I hear?” I began, and he, “Shades which go, perhaps loosing the knot of their debt.” [1] “Lord, open thou my lips.”—Psalm li. 15. Even as do pilgrims rapt in thought, who, overtaking on the road unknown folk, turn themselves to them, and stay not; so behind us, moving more quickly, coming up and passing by, a crowd of souls, silent and devout, gazed at us. Each was dark and hollow in the eyes, pallid in the face, and so wasted that the skin took its shape from the bones. I do not think that Erisichthon[1] was so dried up to utter rind by hunger, when he had most fear of it. I said to myself in thought, “Behold the people who lost Jerusalem, when Mary struck her beak into her son.”[2] The sockets of their eyes seemed rings without gems. Whoso in the face of men reads OMO,[3] would surely there have recognized the M. Who would believe that the scent of an apple, begetting longing, and that of a water, could have such mastery, if he knew not how? [1] Punished for sacrilege by Ceres with insatiable hunger, so that at last he turned his teeth upon himself. See Ovid, Metam.,viii. 738 sqq.