468
A PEOPLE'S THEATRE
it not for that other gyre turning inward in exact measure with the outward whirl of its fellow, we would fall in a generation or so under some tyranny that would cease at last to be a tyranny, so perfect our acquiescence.
"Constrained, arraigned, baffled, bent and unbent
By these wire-jointed jaws and limbs of wood,
Themselves obedient,
Knowing not evil and good.
Obedient to some hidden magical breath,
They do not even feel, so abstract are they,
So dead beyond our death,
Triumph that we obey."
