And drown his courage. Like a driven leaf 

 Before the whirlwind, shall he hasten down 

 To a dishonor'd tomb. Men shall rejoice, 

 And clap their hands, and hiss him from his place 

 When he departs. 

 Surely, there is a vein 

 For silver, and a secret bed for gold 

 Which man discovers. Where the iron sleeps 

 In darkest chambers of the mine he knows, 

 And how the brass is molten. But a Mind 

 Deeper than his, close-hidden things explores, 

 Searching out all perfection. 

 Earth unveils 

 The mystic treasures of her matron breast, 

 Bread for her children, gems like living flame, 

 Sapphires, whose azure emulates the skies, 

 And dust of gold. Yet there's a curtain'd path 

 Which the unfettered denizens of air 

 Have not descried, nor even the piercing eye 

 Of the black vulture seen. The lion's whelps 

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