God's mean and careless servant—while I wander
Deep in the madness of Philosophy,—
Now backward I must set my sail, and ponder
Where my forsaken course retraced shall be.
For Jupiter, who with his glittering fire
So often cleaves apart the threatening clouds,
His winged car and thundering horses higher
Toward air has driven where no shadow shrouds.
Whereat the sluggish earth, each vagrant river,—
The Styx, and hated Taenarus' dread abode,
And the Atlantic borders shake and shiver.
Ah—to reverse high things and low, our God
Is able, and the mighty he can lower,
The obscure can raise. From this man Fortune steals
The crown to give to that one;—in her power,
Showing with hissing wings the joy she feels.