Book IV, Metre I (I. T.): The Soul's Flight

For I have swift and nimble wings which will ascend the lofty skies,
With which when thy quick mind is clad, it will the loathed earth despise,
And go beyond the airy globe, and watery clouds behind thee leave,
Passing the fire which scorching heat doth from the heavens' swift course receive,
Until it reach the starry house, and get to tread bright Phoebus' ways,
Following the chilly sire's path, companion of his flashing rays,
And trace the circle of the stars which in the night to us appear,
And having stayed there long enough go on beyond the farthest sphere,
Sitting upon the highest orb partaker of the glorious light,
Where the great King his sceptre holds, and the world's reins doth guide aright,
And, firm in his swift chariot, doth everything in order set.
Unto this seat when thou art brought, thy country, which thou didst forget,
Thou then wilt challenge to thyself, saying : 'This is the glorious land
Where I was born, and in this soil my feet for evermore shall stand.
Whence if thou pleasest to behold the earthly night which thou hast left,
Those tyrants which the people fear will seem of their true home bereft.'