Classic Poem

A sparing and unfrequent guest
In Jove's high temple at the best, —
While mad philosophy my mind pursu'd,
I now must shift my sail, and have my course renew'd.
For lo! the sempiternal sire
(Who us'd to cleave with brandish'd fire
The clouds, as I conceiv'd) of late was seen,
With car and thund'ring horses in the clear SERENE .
Which the still earth and floods that flow,
And horrid Taenarus below,
And those Atlantic bounds compels to quake;
'Tis God, and God alone pre-eminent can make
The depths emerge, the mighty poor;
'Tis he, that brings to light th'obscure —
And fortune, at his bidding takes a crown,
Here proudly sets it up, there sternly throws it down.