In front of them the Tigris and Euphrates
Methought I saw forth issue from one fountain,And slowly part, like friends, from one another.
“O light, O glory of the human race!What stream is this which here unfolds itselfFrom out one source, and from itself withdraws?”
For such a prayer, ’twas said unto me, “PrayMatilda that she tell thee;” and here answered,As one does who doth free himself from blame,
The beautiful lady: “This and other thingsWere told to him by me; and sure I amThe water of Lethe has not hid them from him.”
And Beatrice: “Perhaps a greater care,Which oftentimes our memory takes away,Has made the vision of his mind obscure.
But Eunoe behold, that yonder rises;Lead him to it, and, as thou art accustomed,Revive again the half-dead virtue in him.”
Like gentle soul, that maketh no excuse,But makes its own will of another’s willAs soon as by a sign it is disclosed,
Even so, when she had taken hold of me,The beautiful lady moved, and unto StatiusSaid, in her womanly manner, “Come with him.”
If, Reader, I possessed a longer spaceFor writing it, I yet would sing in partOf the sweet draught that ne’er would satiate me;
But inasmuch as full are all the leavesMade ready for this second canticle,The curb of art no farther lets me go.
From the most holy water I returnedRegenerate, in the manner of new treesThat are renewed with a new foliage,
Pure and disposed to mount unto the stars.