The world was young, when some Prometheus came
And snatch’d the kernel action from repose;
His flaming ministrations crown’d his name,
Earth throbb’d his glory in her godlike throes;
And immortal words have rounded, since, the soul
With love, whose sufferance is keen to act;
But some seek suffering, scorning action’s goal,
Disjoining love, from what lifts love to fact.
Far other, taught love’s founder, and love’s lord;
Far other, mighty shades have since decreed;
They would not linger by the deep’ning ford,
They plunged, they fought, and victors now proceed:
Two notes of music blended in one tone;
Rich various colours form’d their pure white zone.