Shrink trembling from the presence bright
That well might blast a heart like mine;
As fire that heaven’s winged bolt allumes,
Unquenched, unquenchable, consumes
The votive pyre, the fane, the shrine!
But to the daring flight of thought
Sense would oppose its bonds in vain;
Beneath the god to frenzy wrought,
My soul leaps up, and spurns the chain.
The lightning courses through my veins,