The man who lies asleep will never waken fame.

To course across more kindly waters now my talent's little vessel lifts her sails, leaving behind herself a sea so cruel; and what I sing will be that second kingdom, in which the human soul is cleansed of sin, becoming worthy of ascent to Heaven.

I wept not — so to stone I grew within.

Heaven wheels above you, displaying to you her eternal glories, and still your eyes are on the ground.

Justice divine has weighed: the doom is clear. All hope renounce, ye lost, who enter here.

Here let dead poetry rise once more to life.

They yearn for what they fear for.