Classic Poem

Aspiring sprite, flie low, yet flie despaire,
Thy haughtie thoughts the heau'nly powers despise.
Thus ballanc'd, lo, betwixt the earth and th' aire,
I wot not whether for to fall or rise;
Through desperate dangers whiles I scale the skies,
As if that nought my courage could restraine,
When lo, anon downe in the center lies
That restlesse mind, which th' heau'ns did once containe;
I toyle for that which I cannot attaine:
Yet fortune nought but ficklenesse affoords:
Where I haue bene, I hope to be againe;
She once must change, her common course records.
Although my hap be hard, my heart is hie,
And it must mount, or else my bodie die.