SONG I. The Soul's Flight
Boethius · The Consolation of Philosophy · 64 of 90
SONG I.
The Soul's Flight.
Wings are mine; above the poleFar aloft I soar.
Clothed with these, my nimble soul
Scorns earth's hated shore,
Cleaves the skies upon the wind,
Sees the clouds left far behind.
Soon the glowing point she nears,
Where the heavens rotate,
Follows through the starry spheres
Phœbus' course, or straight
Takes for comrade 'mid the stars
Saturn cold or glittering Mars;
Thus each circling orb explores
Through Night's stole that peers;
Then, when all are numbered, soars
Far beyond the spheres,
Mounting heaven's supremest height
To the very Fount of light.
There the Sovereign of the world
His calm sway maintains;
As the globe is onward whirled
Guides the chariot reins,
And in splendour glittering
Reigns the universal King.
Hither if thy wandering feet
Find at last a way,
Here thy long-lost home thou'lt greet:
'Dear lost land,' thou'lt say,
'Though from thee I've wandered wide,
Hence I came, here will abide.'
Yet if ever thou art fain
Visitant to be
Of earth's gloomy night again,
Surely thou wilt see
Tyrants whom the nations fear
Dwell in hapless exile here.
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