Now mount aloft, and sport in air,
Transported, when I will, and where,
Still present, to whate’er invites,
Each moment brings me new delights;
Nor fear allays the joys I know,
The dangers scorn’d that lurk below;
No trampling hoof, my former dread,
Can crush me, mangled, to the dead.
Ev’n man himself pursues, in vain,
My sportive circuit o’er the plain.”