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106
ON A PICTURE OF THE FATES.
Ye dull and loathy sisterhood forlorn!Why did the fabling soul of ancient song
Build up a falsehood of such dreary scorn,
As that to you our being should belong?
Likening a life that feels so much of heaven,
And so divinely sensible of joy,
To a frail thread at your cold mandate riven,
For hands so pale to weave and to destroy?
Soul-deadening lore! that had long since its birth,
When the strange perjury of ancient creed
Jarred in full discord,—now our hearts are freed,
And solemn Reason dictates to the Earth,
Since that most perfect Law shone forth to bless,
That hath no peer in moral loveliness.
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