"Woe to thee, wild ambition, I employ
Despair's dull notes thy dread effects to tell,
Born in high-heaven, her peace thou could'st destroy,
And, but for thee, there had not been a hell.
"Thro' the celestial domes thy clarion pealed,--
Angels, entranced, beneath thy banners ranged,
And stright were fiends;--hurled from the shrinking field,
They waked in agony to wait the change.
"Darting thro' all her veins the subtle fire
The world's fair mistress first inhaled thy breath,
To lot of higher beings learned to aspire,--
Dared to attempt--and doomed the world to death.
"Thy thousand wild desires, that still torment
The fiercely struggling soul, where peace once dwelt,
But perished;--feverish hope--drear discontent,
Impoisoning all possest--Oh! I have felt
"As spirits feel--yet not for man we mourn
Scarce o'er the silly bird in state were he,
That builds his nest, loves, sings the morn's return,
And sleeps at evening; save by aid of thee,
"Fame ne'er had roused, nor song her records kept
The gem, the ore, the marble breathing life,
The pencil's colours,--all in earth had slept,
Now see them mark with death his victim's strife.
"Man found thee death--but death and dull decay
Baffling, by aid of thee, his mastery proves;--
By mighty works he swells his narrow day
And reigns, for ages, on the world he loves.
"Yet what the price? with stings that never cease
Thou goad'st him on; and when, too keen the smart,
He fain would pause awhile--and signs for peace,
Food thou wilt have, or tear his victim heart."