Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 01.djvu/91

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THE GARDEN OF EROS.
77
Returns in horrid cycle, and the earth  Hath borne again a noisy progeny Of ignorant Titans, whose ungodly birth  Hurls them against the august hierarchy Which sat upon Olympus, to the Dust They have appealed, and to that barren arbiter they must
Repair for judgment, let them, if they can,  From Natural Warfare and insensate Chance, Create the new ideal rule for man!  Methinks that was not my inheritance; For I was nurtured otherwise, my soul Passes from higher heights of life to a more supreme goal.
Lo! while we spake the earth did turn away  Her visage from the God, and Hecate's boat Rose silver-laden, till the jealous day  Blew all its torches out: I did not note The waning hours, to young Endymions Time's palsied fingers count in vain his rosary of suns!—
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