Moulded mysteriously, are freshly wrought

Within the fiery furnace of his thought.

[27]

No longer Nature's thrall,

Man builds the city wall

That shall withstand her league of levelling storms;

He builds tremendous tombs

Where, hid in hoarded glooms,

His dead defy corruption with her worms:

High towers he rears and bulks of glowing stone,

Where the king rules upon a golden throne.

Creature of hopes and fears,

Of mirth and many tears,

He makes himself a thousand costly altars,

Whence smoke of sacrifice,

Fragrant with myrrh and spice,

Ascends to heaven as the flame leaps and falters;

Where, like a king above the Cloud control,

God sits enthroned and rules Man's subject soul.

[28]

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