Versão portuguesa

The light bark of my genius lifts the sail,

Well pleas'd to leave so cruel sea behind;

And of that second region will I sing,

In which the human spirit from sinful blot

Is purg'd, and for ascent to Heaven prepares.

Here, O ye hallow'd Nine! for in your train

I follow, here the deadened strain revive;

Nor let Calliope refuse to sound

A somewhat higher song, of that loud tone,

Which when the wretched birds of chattering note

Had heard, they of forgiveness lost all hope.