But what avail? the builders have no part—
No share in all the glory of their hands.
I have descended from Alcyone;
I am the muse of Labor and of Mirth;
I come to break the chain of infamy,
That Greed’s blind hammers forge about the earth.
I have descended from the Hidden Place,
To make dumb spirits speak and dead feet start:
I feel the wind of battles in my face,
I hear the song of nations in my heart.