From age to dumb unnumbered age,

By dim gradations long and slow,

He reaches on from stage to stage,

Through fear and famine, weal and woe

And, compassed round with danger, still

Prolongs his life by craft and skill.

With cunning hand he shapes the flint,

He carves the horn with strange device,

[16]

He splits the rebel block by dint

Of effort—till one day there flies

A spark of fire from out the stone:

Fire which shall make the world his own.

[17]

And from the clash of warring Nature's strife

Man day by day wins his imperilled life;

For, goaded on by want, he hunts the roe,

Chases the deer, and lays the wild boar low.

In his rude boat made of the hollow trees

He drifts adventurous on the unoared seas,

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