Nor at thy footstool bow;
For thou wert pure in heart and mind,
And strove to raise—not crush mankind!
As famed Prometheus of yore,
In aid of our lost, wretched sires,
Stole from the flaming-sun, and bore
Down to the earth those fires
That fill with light and life all space,
And mark the Day God’s glorious race—
So thy inventive genius found