f morning,
Through the gross vapours Mars grown fiery red
Down in the West upon the ocean floor,
Appeared to me--may I again behold it!--
A light along the sea so swiftly coming,
Its motion by no flight of wing is equalled;
From which when I a little had withdrawn
Mine eyes, that I might question my Conductor,
Again I saw it brighter grown and larger.
Then on each side of it appeared to me
I knew not what of white, and underneath it
Little by little there came forth another.
My Master yet had uttered not a word
While the first whiteness into wings unfolded;
But when he clearly recognized the pilot,
He cried: 'Make haste, make haste to bow the knee!
Behold the Angel of God! fold thou thy hands!
Henceforward shalt thou see such officers!
See how he scorneth human arguments,
So that nor oar he wants, nor other sail
Than his own wings, between so distant shores.
See how he holds them pointed up to heaven,
Fanning the air with the eternal pinions,
That do not mount themselves like mortal hair!'
Then as still nearer and more near us came
The Bird Divine, more radiant he appeared,
So that near by the eye could not endure him,
But down I cast it; and he came to shore
With a small vessel, very swift and light,
So that the water swallowed naught thereof.
Upon the stern stood the Celestial Pilot;
Beatitude seemed written in his face,
And more than a hundred spirits sat within."
(II, 13.)

And now occurs a touching episode which shows how deep and rich is
friendship in Dante's heart. One of the shades recognizing him, steps
forward with a look so full of affection to embrace him that the poet
is moved to do likewise. Amazement ensues on both sides. The spirit
finds Dante alive in the flesh and he in turn on account of the
impalpability of the shade clasps only empty air. But there is mutual
recognition. Dante asks his newly-found friend Casella, the musician, to
sing as he used to do when his sweet voice soothed the troubled heart of
the poet and banished his cares. "May it please thee therewith to solace
awhile my soul that with its mortal form, journeying here, is sore
distressed." Casella's answer is as loving as it is surprising. He sings
one of Dante's canzoni and the whole party listen with intent delight
finally broken by the chiding words of Cato:

"What is this ye laggard spirits?
What negligence, what standing still is this?
Run