Yet from these Elysian dreamings I've waked to misery and despair.
In this mood I've heard, with pleasure common mortals cannot know,
Grand debates, and songs and speeches, which from sparkling genius flow.
Then I've built aerial castles towering up to heights sublime,
And I've questioned in my fancy, if such blissfulness were mine.
For the nonce, a powerful statesman, I have ruled with iron sway,
Millions of my fellow-creatures, who, of course, were rougher clay.
Changing, then, to mighty warrior, at the head of armies bold,
I've crushed all who dared oppose me, just for glory, not for gold.
Or, again, as learned historian, I've noted down the deeds of yore,