Doubting Pleases Me No Less Than Knowing

O You, Who In Some Pretty Boat, Eager To Listen, Have Been Following Behind My Ship, That Singing Sails Along Turn Back To Look Again Upon Your Own Shores; Tempt Not The Deep, Lest Unawares, In Losing Me, You Yourselves Might Be Lost. The Sea I Sail Has Never Yet Been Passed; Minerva Breathes, And Pilots Me Apollo, And Muses Nine Point Out To Me The Bears. You Other Few Who Have Neck Uplifted Betimes To The Bread Of Angels Upon Which One Lives And Does Not Grow Sated, Well May You Launch Your Vessel Upon The Deep Sea.

Justice Does Not Descend From Its Own Pinnacle.

That Which Had Pleased Me Once, Troubled By Spirit.

To Course Across More Kindly Waters Now My Talent's Little Vessel Lifts Her Sails, Leaving Behind Herself A Sea So Cruel; And What I Sing Will Be That Second Kingdom, In Which The Human Soul Is Cleansed Of Sin, Becoming Worthy Of Ascent To Heaven.

Justice Divine Has Weighed: The Doom Is Clear. All Hope Renounce, Ye Lost, Who Enter Here.