Wrung from gloom with Titan-power,
Thou to the labouring mind thy lustres lending,130
Till, armed with all thy dower,
From the lone chamber to the loud world wending,
They’ve ploughed the homely field and sown
The seed that bears a deathless grain;
Afar o’er belts of blustering ocean blown,135
In lands of scathing sun and ruthless rain,
Have held the dusky hordes at bay,
And tempered empire with a softer ray;