It is the hour when no relics of diurnal heat chafe the moon, overpowered by earth or Saturn, and the geomancer sees his Greater Fortune climb the east, gray dawn checkering the shadowy cone. Before Dante a woman's shape: lips that stammer, eyes aslant, distorted feet, hands maimed, colour pale. His look unlooses her tongue, raises the decrepit form, and paints the faded face with love's own hue. She warbles such a strain he could scarce have held attention. I am the Siren, she whom mariners on the wide sea are wildered when they hear; such fulness of delight the listener feels. I from his course Ulysses by my lay enchanted drew. Whoe'er frequents me once parts seldom. Ere her mouth is closed, a dame of holy semblance appears. With stern voice: Say, O Virgil, who is this? Virgil approaches, eyes on that goodly presence. The other seizes the Siren, tears her robes, opens her before him, and a loathsome smell from the belly wakes him. At the least three times my voice hath called thee. Rise. Find the opening.
Day fills the circuits. The early ray smotes their shoulder. Dante follows with forehead bent like an arch spanning a flood. Come, enter here, in a tone never met on mortal strand. Swan-like wings marshal them; plumes fan those who mourn, for comfort shall be theirs. What aileth thee, that still thou look'st to earth? New vision, he says. Hast thou seen that old enchantress, her whose wiles alone the spirits over us weep for? Hast thou seen how man may free him of her bonds? Enough. Let thy heels spurn the earth, and thy raised ken fix on the lure heaven's King whirls in the spheres. As a falcon looks down, then stretches for the food, so he journeys to the fifth circle. A race lies prone, weeping: My soul hath cleaved to the dust, with sighs that well nigh choke the words. Direct us toward the steep. Keep to rightward the brink, comes the answer from beyond.
Free to act, Dante stands over the shade whose words he marked. Spirit, suspend that mightier care: say who thou wast, why ye grovel, if I may serve thee there. Know me first the successor of Peter; my lineage from that stream between Chiaveri and Siestri. A month and little more I learnt with what a weight that robe of sovereignty rests on him who would guard it from the mire. Late was my conversion: as Rome's pastor I discerned the dream and cozenage of life, saw the heart rested not there, yet no prouder height lured the climber. Then love of purer being kindled. Till then a soul in misery, alienate from God, covetous of all earthly things; now punished for my doting. As our eyes fastened below, justice has levelled us here. Avarice quenched our love of good; here justice holds us prisoned, hand and foot chained, motionless outstretched. Dante stoops in reverence. What cause hath bowed thee? Compunction, and inward awe of your high dignity. Up, brother: upon thy feet arise: err not: thy fellow servant I, of one Sovran Power. If thou hast marked 'nor shall be given in marriage,' thou mayst discern the reasons. Linger here no more; thy tarrying is a let unto the tears. I have on earth a kinswoman, Alagia, worthy in herself, so ill example of our house corrupt her not: and she is all remaineth of me there.
