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  Upon the things behind, ahead
  Of the darkness ’round me spread.
  I lock Dame Nature out
  With all her fickle rout:
  Somewhere here
  In the darkness drear
  I myself with cheer
  My course will steer
In the path
E’er sought by all:
Its magnet-call
I hear.

Not here, not here
Apollo would his burning chariot steer;
Nor Dian dares to peep
Into the sacred silence deep.

Not here, not here
The mounts nor rebel waves, nor far or near,
Can make me full of fear, nor evermore
Their dreadful grandeur adore.
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