 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
100
PROMETHEAN FANCIES.
II.
Prometheus—none may see him. But at night,
When heaven's bolt has made some forest flare
On Caucasus, and when the broad red glare
Flushes from crag to crag at infinite height,
When heaven's bolt has made some forest flare
On Caucasus, and when the broad red glare
Flushes from crag to crag at infinite height,
Staining the snow, or running ruby-bright
Along the myriad glacier-crests to scare
The screaming eagles out of black chasms, where,
But half dislodged, the dark still grapples tight:
Along the myriad glacier-crests to scare
The screaming eagles out of black chasms, where,
But half dislodged, the dark still grapples tight:
Then on some lurid monstrous wall of rock
The Titan's shadow suddenly appears
Gigantic, flickering, vague; and, storm-unfurled,
The Titan's shadow suddenly appears
Gigantic, flickering, vague; and, storm-unfurled,
Seems still to brave, with hand that dim chains lock
Midway in the unendingness of years,
The Author of the miscreated world.
Midway in the unendingness of years,
The Author of the miscreated world.
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |