A single life in each you made abode;
And the whole business of the tedious round,
To copy patterns which in each you found.
Sure you have gained from heaven Promethean fire,
To form, then kindle souls into desire:
Else why successive starts of hopes and fears,
A martial warmth first raised, then quenched with tears?
Unless this truth shines clearly through the whole,
Sense rules the world, but you command the soul.
Theophilus Parsons.