Page:Poems (IA poemslowell00lowe).pdf/89

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
PROMETHEUS.
71
When thine is finished, thou art known no more:There is a higher purity than thou,And higher purity is greater strength;Thy nature is thy doom, at which thy heartTrembles behind the thick wall of thy might.Let man but hope, and thou art straightway chilledWith thought of that drear silence and deep nightWhich, like a dream, shall swallow thee and thine:Let man but will, and thou art god no more,More capable of ruin than the goldAnd ivory that image thee on earth.He who hurled down the monstrous Titan-broodBlinded with lightnings, with rough thunders stunned,Is weaker than a simple human thought.My slender voice can shake thee, as the breeze,That seems but apt to stir a maiden's hair,Sways huge Oceanus from pole to pole;For I am still Prometheus, and foreknowIn my wise heart the end and doom of all.
Yes, I am still Prometheus, wiser grownBy years of solitude,—that holds apart
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.