ints.
Green as the tender leaves but newly born,
Their vesture was, the which, by wings as green
Beaten, they drew behind them, fann'd in air.
A little over us one took his stand;
The other lighted on the opposing hill;
So that the troop were in the midst contain'd.
But in their visages the dazzled eye
Was lost, as faculty that by too much
Is overpower'd. 'From Mary's bosom both
Are come,' exclaimed Sordello, 'as a guard
Over the vale, 'gainst him, who hither tends,
The serpent.' Whence, not knowing by which path
He came, I turn'd me round; and closely press'd,
All frozen, to my leader's trusted side."

After describing an interview with one of the souls, the poet continues
his narrative:

"While yet he spoke, Sordello to himself
Drew him, and cried: 'Lo there our enemy!'
And with his hand pointed that way to look
Along the side, where barrier none arose
Around the little vale, a serpent lay,
Such haply as gave Eve the bitter food.
Between the grass and flowers, the evil snake
Came on, reverting oft his lifted head;
And, as a beast that smooths its polish'd coat.
Licking his back. I saw not, nor can tell,
How those celestial falcons from their seat
Moved, but in motion each one well described.
Hearing the air cut by their verdant plumes,
The serpent fled; and, to their stations, back
The angels up return'd with equal flight."
(Purg., VIII.)

A third picture of temptation is furnished by the episode of one of the
Sirens who appears first repulsive and then seems to the poet sweet and
alluring. Only when Virgil discloses her hideous nature does Dante see
how easily he might have fallen a victim to her wiles. He tells us that
in his sleep there appeared to him a woman with stammering utterance,
squinting eyes, deformed hands. "I gazed at her, and as the sun restores
the cold limbs made heavy by night, thus my look loosened her tongue,
then straightened her all out in a little while and colored her wan face
as love demands. When her speech was thus unbound she began to sing so
that I could hardly have turned my attention from her. 'I am,' she sang,
'I am sweet Siren who bewitch sailors by mid-sea, so full am I of charm
to hear. By my song I turned Ulysses from his wandering way. And
whosoever abides with me seldom departs, so wholly do I satisfy him.'
Her lips were not yet closed when a lady, swift and holy, appeared at my
side to confound the oth