Unto his notes; and lo! the grave old man,
Exclaiming: "What is this, ye laggard spirits?

What negligence, what standing still is this?
Run to the mountain to strip off the slough,
That lets not God be manifest to you."

Even as when, collecting grain or tares,
The doves, together at their pasture met,
Quiet, nor showing their accustomed pride,

If aught appear of which they are afraid,
Upon a sudden leave their food alone,
Because they are assailed by greater care;

So that fresh company did I behold
The song relinquish, and go tow'rds the hill,
As one who goes, and knows not whitherward;

Nor was our own departure less in haste.



Purgatorio: Canto III


Inasmuch as the instantaneous flight
Had scattered them asunder o'er the plain,
Turned to the mountain whither reason spurs us,