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 single specimen will suffice to illustrate his qualities as a poet.”

“‘In ancient days, while yet the world was young,

Ere Abram fed his flocks or Homer sung;

When blacksmith Tubal tamed creative fire,

And Jabal dwelt in tents and Jubal struck the lyre;

Flesh grown corrupt brought forth a monstrous birth

And obscene giants trod the shrinking earth,

Till God, impatient of their sinful brood,

Gave rein to wrath and drown’d them in the Flood.

Teeming again, repeopled Tellus bore

The lubber Hero and the Man of War;

Huge towers of Brawn, topp’d with an empty Skull,

Witlessly bold, heroically dull.

Long ages pass’d and Man grown more refin’d,

Slighter in muscle but of vaster Mind,

Smiled at his grandsire’s broadsword, bow and bill,

And learn’d to wield the Pencil and the Quill.

The glowing canvas and the written page

Immortaliz’d his name from age to age,

His name emblazon’d on Fame’s temple wall;

For Art grew great as Humankind grew small.

Thus man’s long progress step by step we trace;

The Giant dies, the hero takes his place;

The Giant vile, the dull heroic Block:

At one we shudder and at one we mock.

Man last appears. In him the Soul’s pure flame

Burns brightlier in a not inord’nate frame.

Of old when Heroes fought and Giants swarmed,

Men were huge mounds of matter scarce inform’d;

Wearied by leavening so vast a mass,

The spirit slept and all the mind was crass.

The smaller carcase of these later days

Is soon inform’d; the Soul unwearied plays

And like a Pharos darts abroad her mental rays.

But can we think that Providence will stay

Man’s footsteps here upon the upward way?

Mankind in understanding and in grace

Advanc’d so far beyond the Giants’ race?