Us, children of heaven, us, ageless for aye, us, all of
⁠whose thoughts are eternal;
That ye may from henceforth, having heard of us all things
⁠aright as to matters supernal,
Of the being of birds and beginning of gods, and of
⁠streams, and the dark beyond reaching,
Truthfully knowing aright, in my name bid Prodicus pack
⁠with his preaching.

⁠It was Chaos and Night at the first, and the blackness
⁠of darkness, and hell's broad border,
Earth was not, nor air, neither heaven; when in depths
⁠of the womb of the dark without order
First thing first-born of the black-plumed Night was a
⁠wind-egg hatched in her bosom,
Whence timely with seasons revolving again sweet Love
⁠burst out as a blossom,