But let me soar, O let me fly
Beyond poor Earth's benighted eye,
Beyond the pitch swift eagles tower,
Above the reach of human power;
Above the stars, above the way,
Whence Phoebus darts his piercing ray.
O let me tread those Courts that are,
So bright, so pure, so blest, so fair,
As neither thou nor I must ever know
20On Earth—'tis thither, thither would I go.