Page:Prometheus Unbound - Shelley.djvu/37

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        But thou, who art the God and Lord: O thou
          Who fillest with thy soul this world of woe,
        To whom all things of Earth and Heaven do bow
          In fear and worship--all-prevailing foe!
            I curse thee! let a sufferer's curse
            Clasp thee, his torturer, like remorse;
            Till thine Infinity shall be
            A robe of envenomed agony;
        And thine Omnipotence a crown of pain,
      To cling like burning gold round thy dissolving brain!

        Heap on thy soul, by virtue of this Curse,
          Ill deeds; then be thou damned, beholding good;
        Both infinite as is the universe,
          And thou, and thy self-torturing solitude.
            An awful image of calm power
            Though now thou sittest, let the hour
            Come, when thou must appear to be
            That which thou art internally;
        And after many a false and fruitless crime,
      Scorn track thy lagging fall through boundless space and time!

      Were these my words, O Parent?