Original (inglés)

Astounded, to the guardian of my steps I turn'd me, like the chill, who always runs Thither for succour, where he trusteth most, And she was like the mother, who her son Beholding pale and breathless, with her voice Soothes him, and he is cheer'd; for thus she spake, Soothing me: "Know'st not thou, thou art in heav'n? And know'st not thou, whatever is in heav'n, Is holy, and that nothing there is done But is done zealously and well? Deem now, What change in thee the song, and what my smile