[12] Stopped in the place allotted to it. And now we had come to the last circuit,[1] and turning to the right hand, we were intent upon another care. Here the bank shoots forth flame, and the ledge breathes a blast upward which drives it back, and sequesters a path from it.[2] Wherefore it was needful to go one by one along the unenclosed side; and on the one hand I was afraid of the fire, and on the other I was afraid of falling off. My Leader said, “Through this place, one must keep tight the rein upon the eyes, because for little one might go astray.” “Summae Deus clementiae,”[3] in the bosom of the great burning then I heard singing, which made me care not less to turn. And I saw spirits going through the flame; wherefore I looked at them and at my own steps, apportioning to each my sight from moment to moment. After the end of that hymn, they loudly cried: “Virum non cognosco;”[4] then began again the hymn with low voice; this finished, they cried anew, “To the wood Diana kept herself, and drove therefrom Helice,[5] who had felt the poison of Venus.” Then they turned to singing; then wives they cried out, and husbands who were chaste, as virtue and marriage enjoin upon us. And I believe this mode suffices them through all the time the fire burns them. With such cure it is needful, and with such food, that the last wound of all should be closed up. [1] The word in the original is tortura. Benvenuto’s comment is, “nunc incipiebant torquere et flectere viam, ideo talem deflectionem appellat torturam.” Buti, on the contrary, says, “tortura cioe tormento.” [2] Secures a safe pathway along the ledge. [3] “God of clemency supreme,” the beginning of a hymn, sung at Matins, containing a prayer for purity. [4] “I know not a man,” the words of Mary to the angel—Luke, i. 34. [5] Helice, or Callisto, the nymph who bore a son to Jupiter, and, having been changed to a bear by Juno, was by Jove transferred with her child to the heavens, where they are seen as the Great and Little Bear. CANTO XXVI. Seventh Ledge: the Lustful.—Sinners in the fire, going in opposite directions.—Guido Guinicelli.—Arnaut Daniel. While we were going on thus along the edge, one before the other, and the good Master was often saying, “Take heed! let it avail that I warn thee,” the sun was striking me on the right shoulder, and now, raying out, was changing all the west from azure to a white aspect; and with my shadow I was making the flame appear more ruddy, and only at such an indication[1] I saw many shades, as they went on, give attention. This was the occasion which gave them a beginning to speak of me, and they began to say, “He seems not a fictitious body;” then toward me, so far as they could do so, certain of them canine, always with regard not to come out where they would not be burned. [1] At this sign that Dante’s body was that of a living man.