Follow Your Path, And Let The People

Heaven Wheels Above You, Displaying To You Her Eternal Glories, And Still Your Eyes Are On The Ground.

Those Ancients Who In Poetry Presented The Golden Age, Who Sang Its Happy State, Perhaps, In Their Parnassus, Dreamt This Place. Here, Mankind's Root Was Innocent; And Here Were Every Fruit And Never-ending Spring; These Streams--the Nectar Of Which Poets Sing.

Ah! Justice Of Our God! Who Else Could Stow Such Travails New And Pains As Met My Glance!

Three Sparks - Pride, Envy, And Avarice - Have Been Kindled In All Hearts.

And When He Had Put His Hand On Mine With A Cheerful Look, Wherefrom I Took Courage, He Brought Me Within To The Secret Things. Here Sighs, Laments, And Deep Wailings Were Resounding Through The Starless Air; Wherefore At First I Wept Thereat. Strange Tongues, Horrible Utterances, Words Of Woe, Accents Of Anger, Voices High And Faint, And Sounds Of Hands With Them, Were Making A Tumult Which Whirls Always In That Air Forever Dark, Like The Sand When The Whirlwind Breathes.