The Angel Boat and Old Friend — Divine Comedy

Comfort can arrest even souls already bound for heaven. On the shore at dawn, Dante and Virgil wait in thoughtful stillness when a light races across the sea faster than any wing; it opens into an angel with eternal plumes that never moult, driving a small bark that drinks no wave. Inside, a hundred spirits sing the Exodus psalm together, then the angel blesses them with the cross and returns at once. The souls scatter on the sand, astounded, asking where the mountain is. Virgil admits they too are strangers here. The spirits notice Dante is breathing and go pale; they flock round him like a crowd around a herald. One rushes toward him with such fondness that Dante moves to embrace, but three times his arms clasp empty air. It is Casella, the musician. He explains the angel has been free with passage these past three months but often refused before; at the Tiber mouth among jubilee souls he finally boarded. Dante asks him to sing, to ease a spirit worn by the long road. Casella begins the old love song in accents so soft the sweetness still thrills Dante in the telling. Virgil and every soul stand rapt; nothing else can occupy their thoughts. Cato arrives. What negligence keeps you loitering? Run to the mountain and cast off the scales that hide God's sight from your eyes. The souls scatter like pigeons startled from their grain: no pride, no ceremony, only the sudden knowledge of a more important care. The song is abandoned; the mountain is the only thought. Dante and Virgil depart with equal hurry.