The men of iron; and the world hath rear'd In imitation of the things they fear'd, And fought and conquer'd, and the same course steer'd, At apish distance; but as yet none have, Nor could, the same supremacy have near'd, Save one vain man, who is not in the grave, She-wolf! whose brazen-imaged dugs impart Thou dost ;-but all thy foster-babes are dead- Cities from out their sepulchres: men bled In imitation of the things they fear'd, And fought and conquer'd, and the same course steer'd, At apish distance; but as yet none have, Nor could, the same supremacy have near'd, XC. The fool of false dominion-and a kind XCI. And came and saw-and conquer'd! But the man Which he, in sooth, long led to victory, At what? can he avouch-or answer what he claim'd? XCII. And would be all or nothing-nor could wait Had fix'd him with the Cæsars in his fate, On whom we tread: For this the conqueror rears The arch of triumph! and for this the tears Without an ark for wretched man's abode, XCIII. What from this barren being do we reap? Life short, and truth a gem which loves the deep, Mantles the earth with darkness, until right And wrong are accidents, and men grow pale Lest their own judgments should become too bright, And their free thoughts be crimes, and earth have too much light. XCIV. And thus they plod in sluggish misery, To the new race of inborn slaves, who wage Within the same arena where they see Their fellows fall before, like leaves of the same tree. XCV. I speak not of men's creeds-they rest between The edict of Earth's rulers, who are grown And shook them from their slumbers on the throne; |