Page:The Dream of Pythagoras and Other Poems.djvu/30

 Of ripe perfection. But, alas! I saw

And envied the bold lightning, who could blind

And stai'tle nations, and I long'd to be

A conqueror strong to destroy, like him.

Methought it was a glorious joy, indeed,

To shut and open heaven as he did.

And have the thunders for my retinue.

And tear the clouds, and blacken palaces.

And in a moment whiten sky, and sea,

And earth: therefore I murmur'd at my lot.

Beautiful as it was, and that one murmur

Despoil'd me of my glory. I became

A dark and tyrant cloud driven by the storm,

Too earthly to be bright, too hard of heart

To drop in mercy on the thirsty land;

And so no creature lov'd me. I was felt

A blot where'er I came. Fair Summer scom'd

And spurn'd me from her blueness, for, she said,

I would not wear her golden fringe, and so

She could not rank me in her sparkling train.

Soft Spring refused me, for she could not paint

Her rainbows on a nature cold as mine,

Incapable of tears. Autumn despis'd

One who could do no good. Dark Winter frown'd,