Dante is so overcome by a sense of his utter unworthiness that he falls down unconscious, and on recovering his senses finds himself in the stream, upheld by the hand of a nymph (Matilda), who sweeps him along, "swift as a shuttle bounding o'er the wave," while angels chant "Thou shalt wash me" and "I shall be whiter than snow." Freed from all haunting memories of past sins by Lethe's waters, Dante finally lands on the "blessed shore." There Beatrice's hand-maidens welcome him, and beseech her to complete her work by revealing her inner beauty to this mortal, so he can portray it for mankind.

But, although Dante gazes at her in breathless admiration, words fail him to render what he sees.
"O splendor! O sacred light eternal! who is he, So pale with musing in Pierian shades, Or with that fount so lavishly imbued, Whose spirit should not fail him in the essay To represent thee such as thou didst seem, When under cope of the still-chiming heaven Thou gavest to open air thy charms reveal'd ?" _Canto XXXII._ Dante is still quenching a "ten-years thirst" by staring at his beloved, when her attendants admonish him to desist.
But, although he obediently turns aside his eyes, like a man who has gazed too long at the sun, he sees her image stamped on all he looks at.

He and Statius now humbly follow the glorious procession, which enters a forest and circles gravely round a barren tree-trunk, to which the chariot is tethered.

Immediately the dry branches burst into bud and leaf, and, soothed by angelic music, Dante falls asleep, only to be favored by a vision so startling, that on awakening he eagerly looks around for Beatrice.

The nymph who bore him safely through the waters then points her out, resting beneath the mystic tree, and Beatrice, rousing too, bids Dante note the fate of her chariot.