But let a purblind mortal dare the task
The embryo future of itself to ask,
The world reminds him with a scornful laugh
That times have changed since Prospero broke his staff.
Could all the wisdom of the schools foretell
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The dismal hour when Lisbon shook and fell,
Or when the shuddering night that toppled down
Our sister's pride beneath whose rural crown
Scarce had the scowl forgot its angry lines
When earth's blind prisoners fired their fatal mines
New realms, new worlds, exulting science claims,
Still the dim future unexplained remains;
Her trembling scales the far-off planets weigh,
Her torturing prisms its elements betray, -
We know what ores the fires of Sirins melt,
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The Stoics and St. Paul.
