Page:Prometheus Unbound - Shelley.djvu/123

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      Yet being now, made earth like heaven; nor pride,
      Nor jealousy, nor envy, nor ill shame,
      The bitterest of those drops of treasured gall,
      Spoiled the sweet taste of the nepenthe, love.

      Thrones, altars, judgment-seats, and prisons, wherein,
      And beside which, by wretched men were borne
      Sceptres, tiaras, swords, and chains, and tomes
      Of reasoned wrong, glozed on by ignorance,
      Were like those monstrous and barbaric shapes,
      The ghosts of a no-more-remembered fame
      Which from their unworn obelisks, look forth
      In triumph o'er the palaces and tombs
      Of those who were their conquerors; mouldering round,
      Those imaged to the pride of kings and priests
      A dark yet mighty faith, a power as wide
      As is the world it wasted, and are now
      But an astonishment; even so the tools
      And emblems of its last captivity,
      Amid the dwellings of the peopled earth,
      Stand, not o'erthrown, but unregarded now.
      And those foul shapes,--abhorred by god and man,
      Which, under many a name and many a form
      Strange, savage, ghastly, dark, and execrable,