Upon the desert slope is so impeded

Upon his way, that he has turned through terror,

And may, I fear, already be so lost,

That I too late have risen to his succour,

From that which I have heard of him in Heaven.

Bestir thee now, and with thy speech ornate,

And with what needful is for his release,

Assist him so, that I may be consoled.

(Editor：map)