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Casting forth, in measured throw,

From the wealth his hand hath got

His whole ship shall founder not,

With abundance overfraught,

Nor deep seas above him flow.

—Lo, when famine stalketh near,

One good gift of Zeus again

From the furrows of one year

Endeth quick the starving pain;

—But once the blood of death is fallen, black

And oozing at a slain man's feet, alack!

By spell or singing who shall charm it back?

—One there was of old who showed

Man the path from death to day;

But Zeus, lifting up his rod,

Spared not, when he charged him stay.

—Save that every doom of God

Hath by other dooms its way

Crossed, that none may rule alone,

In one speech-outstripping groan

Forth had all this passion flown,

Which now murmuring hides away,

Full of pain, and hoping not

Ever one clear thread to unknot

From the tangle of my soul,

From a heart of burning coal.

[Suddenly ''appears standing in the Doorway''.