Not then, nor ever afterwards,
Was I a slave, among my fellow-slaves,
But one, who, with mean drudgery,
And daily penance serves
Before a holy altar,
That, sometimes, as he labours, his glad eyes
May catch a gleam of the immortal light
Within the secret shrine;
Yea! and, maybe, shall look, one day, with trembling,
On the bright-haired, imperishable god.