 | Prometheus The Fire-Giver |  |
TO ÆSCHYLUS.
Across the gulfs of Time I castThe peering of mine hungering eyes
To pierce the thick gloom of the past
Where hides the all of all that dies;
I lean into the ghost-filled night
And my will pierces on to dreams
Of shapes and shades that seem to sight
Till one, thine own, so sought for! seems;
Then is thought smit with wondering awe
And hushed before thine ancient brow
Ploughed with the furrows Athens saw
Throning thee then as we do now.
What hoards lie in the mounds of death
To-day nor after time may bare!
Where are the treasures of thy breath
Save these great with thy greatness—where!
What Death has grasped can Time regive?
Forgive me, mightiest, that I here
Dare bid thy solemn chanted hymns relive,
Dare call to thy gone gods to yet again appear.
| Prometheus The Fire-Giver | |