not weary as before; and behold now how the bill casts its
shadow." "We will go forward with this day," he answered, "as
much further as we shall yet be able; but the fact is of other
form than thou supposest. Before thou art there-above thou wilt
see him return, who is now hidden by the hill-side so that thou
dost not make his rays to break. But see there a soul which
seated all alone is looking toward us; it will point out to us
the speediest way." We came to it. O Lombard soul, how lofty and
scornful wast thou; and in the movement of thine eyes grave and
slow! It said not anything to us, but let us go on, looking only
in manner of a lion when he couches. Virgil, however, drew near
to it, praying that it would show to us the best ascent; and it
answered not to his request, but of our country and life it asked
us. And the sweet Leader began, "Mantua,"--and the shade, all in
itself recluse, rose toward him from the place where erst it was,
saying, "O Mantuan, I am Sordello of thy city,"[1]--and they
embraced each other.

[1] Sordello, who lived early in the thirteenth century, was of
the family of the Visconti of Mantua. He left his native land and
gave up his native tongue to live and write as a troubadour in
Provence, but his fame belonged to Italy.


Ah, servile Italy, hostel of grief! ship without pilot in great
tempest! not lady of provinces, but a brothel! that gentle soul
was so ready, only at the sweet sound of his native land, to give
glad welcome here unto his fellow-citizen: and now in thee thy
living men exist not without war, and of those whom one wall and
one moat shut in one doth gnaw the other. Search, wretched one,