And will not come to all who bend the knee;
That Faith is like the foam upon the sea,
And Pride a snare, and Pomp a foolish toy,
And Hope a moth whose wings we may destroy;
And she I love has taught these things to me.
XI.
Yes, thou, my Lady! Thou hast made me feel
The pangs of that Prometheus who was chain'd
And would not bow, but evermore maintain'd
A fierce revolt. Have I refused to kneel?