So high they rose that they were lost to sight; His limbs were gold, so far as he was bird, And white the others with vermilion mingled. Not only Rome with no such splendid car E’er gladdened Africanus, or Augustus, But poor to it that of the Sun would be,— That of the Sun, which swerving was burnt up At the importunate orison of Earth, When Jove was so mysteriously just. Three maidens at the right wheel in a circle Came onward dancing; one so very red That in the fire she hardly had been noted. The second was as if her flesh and bones Had all been fashioned out of emerald; The third appeared as snow but newly fallen. And now they seemed conducted by the white, Now by the red, and from the song of her The others took their step, or slow or swift. Upon the left hand four made holiday Vested in purple, following the measure Of one of them with three eyes m her head. In rear of all the group here treated of Two old men I beheld, unlike in habit, But like in gait, each dignified and grave. One showed himself as one of the disciples Of that supreme Hippocrates, whom nature Made for the animals she holds most dear; Contrary care the other manifested, With sword so shining and so sharp, it caused Terror to me on this side of the river. Thereafter four I saw of humble aspect, And behind all an aged man alone Walking in sleep with countenance acute. And like the foremost company these seven Were habited; yet of the flower-de-luce No garland round about the head they wore, But of the rose, and other flowers vermilion; At little distance would the sight have sworn That all were in a flame above their brows. And when the car was opposite to me Thunder was heard; and all that folk august Seemed to have further progress interdicted, There with the vanward ensigns standing still. Purgatorio: Canto XXX When the Septentrion of the highest heaven (Which never either setting knew or rising, Nor veil of other cloud than that of sin, And which made every one therein aware Of his own duty, as the lower makes Whoever turns the helm to come to port) Motionless halted, the veracious people, That came at first between it and the Griffin, Turned themselves to the car, as to their peace. And one of them, as if by Heaven commissioned, Singing, “Veni, sponsa, de Libano” Shouted three times, and all the others after. Even as the Blessed at the final summons Shall rise up quickened each one from his cavern, Uplifting light the reinvested flesh, So upon that celestial chariot A hundred rose ‘ad vocem tanti senis,’ Ministers and messengers of life eternal. They all were saying, “Benedictus qui venis,” And, scattering flowers above and round about, “Manibus o date lilia plenis.”