"O thou who honourest every art and science, Who may these be, which such great honour have, That from the fashion of the rest it parts them?"
And he to me: "The honourable name, That sounds of them above there in thy life, Wins grace in Heaven, that so advances them."
In the mean time a voice was heard by me:
"All honour be to the pre-eminent Poet;
His shade returns again, that was departed."
After the voice had ceased and quiet was, Four mighty shades I saw approaching us;
Semblance had they nor sorrowful nor glad.
To say to me began my gracious Master:
"Him with that falchion in his hand behold, Who comes before the three, even as their lord.
That one is Homer, Poet sovereign;
He who comes next is Horace, the satirist;
The third is Ovid, and the last is Lucan.
Because to each of these with me applies The name that solitary voice proclaimed, They do me honour, and in that do well."
Thus I beheld assemble the fair school Of that lord of the song pre-eminent, Who o'er the others like an eagle soars.
When they together had discoursed somewhat, They turned to me with signs of salutation, And on beholding this, my Master smiled;
And more of honour still, much more, they did me, In that they made me one of their own band;
So that the sixth was I, 'mid so much wit.
Thus we went on as far as to the light, Things saying 'tis becoming to keep silent, As was the saying of them where I was.
We came unto a noble castle's foot, Seven times encompassed with lofty walls, Defended round by a fair rivulet;
This we passed over even as firm ground;
Through portals seven I entered with these Sages;