Poems (Commelin)/Sic Itur ad Astra
SIC ITUR AD ASTRA.
Follow, with single aim, thine upward way,
Nor stoop earth's dreary monotone to know,
Its sordid undercurrent, dark and low:
But onward, scaling still some height each day,
In majesty serene as morn of May,
Ne'er heeding whispers subtle of thy foe,
Nor fairest praise, with motive base below,
Sing thine own song and chant thy heart's own lay.
Then, to a fellowship with spirits great,
Whose souls in affluence of thought commune,
More regal pomp than purpled livery,
Than jewelled sheen or panoply of state,
Thy soul, in harmony and finer tune
With kings and queens of realms of thought shall be!
Nor stoop earth's dreary monotone to know,
Its sordid undercurrent, dark and low:
But onward, scaling still some height each day,
In majesty serene as morn of May,
Ne'er heeding whispers subtle of thy foe,
Nor fairest praise, with motive base below,
Sing thine own song and chant thy heart's own lay.
Then, to a fellowship with spirits great,
Whose souls in affluence of thought commune,
More regal pomp than purpled livery,
Than jewelled sheen or panoply of state,
Thy soul, in harmony and finer tune
With kings and queens of realms of thought shall be!