What then? since Swiftness gives the charioteer
The palm, his hope be in the vivid horse
Whose neck God clothed with thunder, not the steer
Sluggish and safe! Yoke Hatred, Crime, Remorse,
Despair: but ever mind the whirling fear,
Let, through the tumult, break the poet’s face
Radiant, assured his wild slaves win the race!”
Two Poets of Croisic.
SCENE I.
A room in the palace of the Landgrave.