For, as the sun’s pure radiance, streaming bright,
Transcends the glow-worm’s dim and fading light,
The wisdom to that man vouchsafed from high
Excells the earth-born fires that flash—and die!
Oh! where shall pride securely harbour then,
Where urge his claims to rule the minds of men?
Blest Eden knew him not,—where all was fair,
Where all was faultless,—pride abode not there.
The glorious angels are above his sway,
Their bliss to minister—to serve—obey;