Look, and pass them by

“O master! what is this I hear? what race
Are these, who seem so overcome with woe?”
    He thus to me: “This miserable fate
Suffer the wretched souls of those, who lived
Without or praise or blame, with that ill band
    Of angels mix’d, who nor rebellious proved,
Nor yet were true to God, but for themselves
Were only. From his bounds Heaven drove them forth
    Not to impair his lustre; nor the depth
Of Hell receives them, lest the accursed tribe
Should glory thence with exultation vain.”
    I then: “Master! what doth aggrieve them thus,
That they lament so loud?” He straight replied:
“That will I tell thee briefly. These of death
    No hope may entertain: and their blind life
So meanly passes, that all other lots
They envy. Fame of them the world hath none,
    Nor suffers; Mercy and Justice scorn them both.
Speak not of them, but look, and pass them by.”