So doth the veriest hind of all his race
Grope tentative after me. Then when he bore
Manhood erect, unparagoned, upon
Earth’s lucent air I woke the soul of song
Choired by the sons of morning. All the court
Of glittering Heaven, in the dread womb of Night;
The stately march celestial; throng on throng
Wheeling from gloom to gloom, in perilous flight
Over the unsearched deeps; the air; the seas;
The bountiful Earth;—my handiwork were these