The sun has reached the horizon that covers Salem, and night has issued from the Ganges with the scales in her hands. Aurora's cheek turns from white and vermeil to orange. Dante and Virgil linger by the water's brink like men who journey in thought while the body stays still. Then a light comes through the sea so swiftly that no winged course might equal its career. Dante looks away to ask his guide, looks back, and it has grown. Bright hue on either side; then another form from underneath. The preceptor stays silent until the brightness opens into wings. Down, down; bend low thy knees; behold God's angel. All human means he sets at naught: nor oar nor other sail except those wings, held straight up to heaven, winnowing air with plumes that do not fall off or change.
The bird of God comes so bright the eye cannot endure it. He drives ashore in a small bark so swift and light that in its course no wave it drank. The steersman at the prow is visibly written blessed. A hundred spirits and more sit within and sing together In Exitu Israel de Aegypto, with what remains of that hymn. He blesses them with the sign of the holy cross; they leap out on land; as swiftly as he came he returns. The crew left behind appear astounded, gazing as one who sees new sights. They ask what path will lead them to the mount. Virgil says they suppose the two well acquainted with this place; here we, as yourselves, are strangers. We came by another road so rough that now the ascent will seem as play. The spirits, who from Dante's breathing had perceived he lived, grow pale. They fix on him like a crowd around a herald with an olive branch, each forgetful of its errand to depart where it might be made all fair.
One darts before the rest with such fond ardour to embrace him that Dante is moved to do the like. O shadows vain except in outward semblance: thrice his hands clasp behind it, and as oft return empty into his breast. The shadow smiles and draws back. Then Dante knows Casella, and asks how so much time has been lost. No outrage, Casella says, if he who chooses when and whom has often denied this passage, since of just will his will he makes. These three months past, whoever chose to enter has been taken with free leave; wandering by the shore where Tiber's wave grows salt, Casella gained admittance at that river's mouth, toward which those wings are pointed. Dante asks, if new laws have not destroyed memory of that sweet song of love, for a little consolation. Love that discourses in my thoughts: Casella begins in such soft accents that the sweetness thrills Dante yet. Guide and crew stand so well pleased that nought else might have room. Then that old man venerable: How is this, ye tardy spirits? What negligence detains you loitering here? Run to the mountain to cast off those scales that from your eyes the sight of God conceal. As pigeons leave their meal when aught alarms them, the new-come troop deserts the song and hastens to the mountain's side, as one who goes yet where he tends knows not. Nor with less hurried step do the two depart.
Coming Up in Chapter 37
The pace will slacken, and only one shadow will fall on the rock. Virgil's body lies at Naples, and a wounded prince will still ask that his daughter hear how wide the arms of pardon are.
