scattering
flowers above and around, "Manibus o date lilia plenis" [Oh, give lilies
with full hands].[22]

I have seen ere now at the beginning of the day the eastern region all
rosy, while the rest of the heaven was beautiful with fair clear sky;
and the face of the sun rise shaded, so that through the tempering of
vapors the eye sustained it a long while. Thus within a cloud of
flowers, which from the angelic hands was ascending, and falling down
again within and without, a lady, with olive wreath above a white veil,
appeared to me, robed with the color of living flame beneath a green
mantle.[23] And my spirit that now for so long a time had not been
broken down, trembling with amazement at her presence, without having
more knowledge by the eyes, through occult virtue that proceeded from
her, felt the great potency of ancient love.

Soon as upon my sight the lofty virtue smote, which already had
transfixed me ere I was out of boyhood, I turned me to the left with the
confidence with which the little child runs to his mother when he is
frightened, or when he is troubled, to say to Virgil, "Less than a
drachm of blood remains in me that doth not tremble; I recognize the
signals of the ancient flame,"[24]--but Virgil had left us deprived of
himself; Virgil, sweetest Father, Virgil, to whom I for my salvation
gave me. Nor did all which the ancient mother lost[25] avail unto my
cheeks, cleansed with dew,[26] that they should not turn dark again with
tears.

"Dante, though Virgil be gone away, weep not yet, for it behoves thee to
weep by another sword."

Like an admiral who, on poop or on prow, comes to see the people that
are serving on the other ships, and encourages them to do well, upon the
left border of the chariot--when I turned me at the sound of my own
name, which of necessity is registered here--I saw the Lady, who had
first appeared to me veiled beneath the angelic festival, directing her
eyes toward me across the stream; although the veil which descended from
her head, circled by the leaf of Minerva, did not allow her to appear
distinctly. Royally, still haughty in her mien, she went on, as one who
speaks and keeps back his warmest speech: "Look at me well: I am indeed,
I am indeed Beatrice. How hast thou deigned to approach the mountain?
Didst thou know that man is happy here?" My eyes fell down into the
clear fount; but seeing myself in it I drew them to the grass, such
great shame burdened my brow. As to