So would each city echo to the hum
Of loom, and web, and swift-revolving wheels.
Then, when prosperity had reached its height
And merhants cavilled at each other's gains,
I'd frame for them the iron beasts of war
And hound than on to harry and destroy—
And when our world was fallen, who but I,
Da Vinci, should stand forth to raise it up?
These were my dreams; I thought myself divine—
All this was long ago, when I was young.