158
PROMETHEUS BOUND.
Crumble like stone! my voice no longer
Shall wail their names, who silent be:
There is a voice that soundeth stronger—
'My daughter, give thine heart to me.'
Lord! take mine heart! Oh first and fairest,
Whom all creation's ends shall hear;
Who deathless love in death declarest!
None else is beauteous—famous—dear!
