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(51) He saw it was formed of a bright emerald, Forming as it were a ring round the world, He said, "Thou mighty hill, what are other hills? Before thee they are mere playthings." The Mount replied, "Those hills are my veins, A hidden vein from me runs to every city, When God desires an earthquake under any city, Then in anger I shake that vein When He says, 'Enough,' my vein remains still, I remain still, and then haste to perform my work.

(7) We paused immovable and in suspense, Even as the shepherds who first heard that song, Until the trembling ceased, and it was finished. Then we resumed again our holy path, Watching the shades that lay upon the ground, Already turned to their accustomed plaint. No ignorance ever with so great a strife Had rendered me importunate to know, If erreth not in this my memory, As meditating then I seemed to have; Nor out of haste to question did I dare, Nor of myself I there could aught perceive; So I went onward timorous and thoughtful.