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Brand.
Not for recompense I bleed;
Not for trophies do I fight.
The Phantom.
For a race that walks entomb'd
Brand.
One to many can give light.
The Phantom.
All their generation's doom'd.
Brand.
Much availeth one will's might.
The Phantom.
"One" with fiery sword of yore
Man of Paradise bereft!
At the gate a gulf he cleft;—
Over that thou mayst not soar!
Brand.
But the path of <g>yearning's</g> left
The Phantom.
[Vanishes in a thunder-clap; the mist fills the place
where it stood; and a piercing scream is heard,
as of one flying.]
Die! Earth cannot use thee more!
Brand.
[Stands a moment in bewilderment.]
Out into the mist it leapt,—
Plumy wings of falcon beating,
