Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/59

 Woe, woe to Man and all his hapless brood!
 * No rest for him, no peace is to be found;
 * He may have tamed wild beasts and made the ground

Yield corn and wine and every kind of food;
 * He may have turned the ocean to his steed,
 * Tutored the lightning's elemental speed

To flash his thouglit from Ætna to Atlantic;
 * He may have weighed the stars and spanned the stream,
 * And trained the fiery force of panting steam

To whirl him o'er vast steppes and heights gigantic:
 * But the storm-lashed world of feeling—
 * Love, the fount of tears unsealing,
 * Choruses of passion pealing—