Man seeks for gold in mines, that he may weave
A lasting chain for his own slavery;
In fear and restless care that he may live,
He toils for others, who must ever be
The joyless thralls of his captivity;
He murders, for his chief delight’s in ruin;
He builds the altar, that its idol’s fee
May be his very blood; he is pursuing,
O, blind and willing wretch! his own obscure undoing.
Shelley.