Resolute rule's the appanage of a Jove.
But Shelley's dismal Demogorgon's self,
That solemn, shadowy, stern, oracular elf,
Plus obstinate Prometheus, did not play
Such mischief as the parties do to-day,
With Law and Order. Who would be a god
When force forsakes his bolt, and fear his nod?
Yes, here's the bolt forged ready to my hand,
But,—will it fly obedient to command,
And hit the mark I mean? Would I were sure;