⁠In the fair days when God
⁠By man as godlike trod,
And each alike was Greek, alike was free,
⁠God’s lightning spared, they said,
⁠Alone the happier head
Whose laurels screened it; fruitless grace for thee,
⁠To whom the high gods gave of right
Their thunders and their laurels and their light.

⁠Sunbeams and bays before
⁠Our master’s servants wore,
For these Apollo left in all men’s lands;
⁠But far from these ere now
⁠And watched with jealous brow
Lay the blind lightnings shut between God’s hands,
⁠And only loosed on slaves and kings
The terror of the tempest of their wings.

⁠Born in those younger years
⁠That shone with storms of spears