My wing, that scarcely might essay yon rack,
Casting the feebleness it did inherit,
Would boldly dare with thee the upward track.
And think not I would sink: no, all unquailing,
I poise me now to follow on thy way;
To mount the tempest-cloud with nerve unfailing,
And thread the path whereon the lightnings play.
Press on! strong plumed! on tireless wing upspringing,
Thy course be ever toward the empyrean;
And at thy side my bonded spirit winging,