Breathing
towards
the
Heavenly
Country
.
Casimire
.
Book
I.
Od.
19.
Imitated
.
Urit
me
Patriae
Decor
,
&c.
THE
Beauty
of
my
Native
Land
Immortal
Love
inspires
;
I
burn
,
I
burn
with
strong
Desires
,
And
sigh
and
wait
the
high
Command
.
There
glides
the
Moon
her
shining
Way
,
And
shoots
my
Heart
thro'
with
a
Silver
Ray
;
Upward
my
Heart
aspires
:
A
thousand
Lamps
of
Golden
Light
Hung
high
in
vaulted
Azure
charm
my
Sight
,
And
wink
and
becken
with
their
Amorous
Fires
.
O
Ye
dear
Glories
of
my
Heavenly
Home
,
Bright
Sentinels
of
my
Fathers
Court
Where
all
the
happy
Minds
resort
,
When
will
my
Father's
Chariot
come
?
Must
ye
for
ever
walk
the
Ethereal
Round
,
For
ever
see
the
Mourner
lie
An
Exile
of
the
Sky
,
A
Prisoner
of
the
Ground
?
Descend
some
shining
Servant
from
on
high
,
Build
me
a
hasty
Tomb
;
A
Grassie
Turf
will
raise
my
Head
,
The
Neighbouring
Lillies
dress
my
Bed
And
shed
a
cheap
Perfume
.
Here
I
put
off
the
Chains
of
Death
My
Soul
too
long
has
worn
,
Friends
,
I
forbid
one
groaning
Breath
,
Or
Tear
to
wet
my
Urn
;
Raphael
,
behold
me
all
undrest
,
Here
gently
lay
this
Flesh
to
rest
;
Then
mount
and
lead
the
Path
unknown
,
Swift
I
pursue
thee
,
Flaming
Guide
,
on
Pinions
of
my
own
.