GIFTS. 21
Of the immortals marble, his the play Of diamond-pointed thought and golden tongue. Go seek the sun-shine race, ye find to-day A broken column and a lute unstrung.
" O World-God, give me Power ! " the Roman
cried. His prayer was granted. The vast world was
chained A captive to the chariot of his pride. The blood of myriad provinces was drained To feed that fierce, insatiable red heart. Invulnerably bulwarked every part With serried legions and with close-meshed Code, Within, the burrowing worm had gnawed its home, A roofless ruin stands where once abode The imperial race of everlasting Rome.
- O Godhead, give me Truth ! " the Hebrew cried.
His prayer was granted ; he became the slave
Of the Idea, a pilgrim far and wide.
Cursed, hated, spurned, and scourged with none to save.
The Pharaohs knew him, and when Greece be- held.
His wisdom wore the hoary crown of Eld.
Beauty he hath forsworn, and wealth and power.
Seek him to-day, and find in every land.
No fire consumes him, neither floods devour ;
Immortal through the lamp within his hand.
