That spirit, light on breeze auspicious buoy'd,
With course backward cleaves the air--
Nor wave, nor wind, nor sail, nor oar its care--
And plies its wings, and seeks the laurel's pride.
With course backward cleaves the air--
Nor wave, nor wind, nor sail, nor oar its care--
And plies its wings, and seeks the laurel's pride.
Petrarch
