Or if I filled the soul with light,
And bore its buoyant wing in air—
To plunge it down in deeper night,
And mock its maniac wanderings there—
I did but wield the wand of power,
That God intrusted to my clasp,
And not, the tyrant of an hour—
Will I resign it to Death's grasp!
The despot with his iron chain,
In idle bonds the limbs may bind—