That fame, which doeth honour to your house, Proclaims its Signors and proclaims its land, So that he knows of them who ne’er was there. And, as I hope for heaven, I swear to you Your honoured family in naught abates The glory of the purse and of the sword. It is so privileged by use and nature, That though a guilty head misguide the world, Sole it goes right, and scorns the evil way.” And he: “Now go; for the sun shall not lie Seven times upon the pillow which the Ram With all his four feet covers and bestrides, Before that such a courteous opinion Shall in the middle of thy head be nailed With greater nails than of another’s speech, Unless the course of justice standeth still.” Purgatorio: Canto IX The concubine of old Tithonus now Gleamed white upon the eastern balcony, Forth from the arms of her sweet paramour; With gems her forehead all relucent was, Set in the shape of that cold animal Which with its tail doth smite amain the nations, And of the steps, with which she mounts, the Night Had taken two in that place where we were, And now the third was bending down its wings; When I, who something had of Adam in me, Vanquished by sleep, upon the grass reclined, There were all five of us already sat. Just at the hour when her sad lay begins The little swallow, near unto the morning, Perchance in memory of her former woes, And when the mind of man, a wanderer More from the flesh, and less by thought imprisoned, Almost prophetic in its visions is, In dreams it seemed to me I saw suspended An eagle in the sky, with plumes of gold, With wings wide open, and intent to stoop, And this, it seemed to me, was where had been By Ganymede his kith and kin abandoned, When to the high consistory he was rapt. I thought within myself, perchance he strikes From habit only here, and from elsewhere Disdains to bear up any in his feet. Then wheeling somewhat more, it seemed to me, Terrible as the lightning he descended, And snatched me upward even to the fire. Therein it seemed that he and I were burning, And the imagined fire did scorch me so, That of necessity my sleep was broken. Not otherwise Achilles started up, Around him turning his awakened eyes, And knowing not the place in which he was, What time from Chiron stealthily his mother Carried him sleeping in her arms to Scyros, Wherefrom the Greeks withdrew him afterwards, Than I upstarted, when from off my face Sleep fled away; and pallid I became, As doth the man who freezes with affright. Only my Comforter was at my side, And now the sun was more than two hours high, And turned towards the sea-shore was my face. “Be not intimidated,” said my Lord, “Be reassured, for all is well with us; Do not restrain, but put forth all thy strength.