“For while I stood in mine obedience yet,
Steering of Betelgeux my sun, behold,
A moon, that evil ones did fill, rolled up
Astray, and suddenly the Master came,
And while, a million strong, like rooks they rose,
He took and broke it, flung it here and there,
And called a blast to drive the powder forth;
And it was fine as dust, and blurred the skies
Farther than ’tis from hence to this young sun. 
Spirits that passed upon their work that day,
Cried out, ’How dusty ‘tis.’  Behoves us, then,
That we depart, as leaving unto Him
This goodly world and goodly race of man. 
Not all are doomed; hereafter it may be
That we find place on it again.  But if,
Too zealous to preserve it, and the men
Our servants, we oppose Him, He may come
And choosing rather to undo His work
Than strive with it for aye, make so an end.”

He sighing paused.  Lo, then the serpent hissed
In impotent rage, “Depart! and how depart! 
Can flesh be carried down where spirits wonn? 
Or I, most miserable, hold my life
Over the airless, bottomless gulf, and bide
The buffetings of yonder shoreless sea? 
O death, thou terrible doom:  O death, thou dread
Of all that breathe.” 
                      A spirit rose and spake;
“Whereas in Heaven is power, is much to fear;
For this admired country we have marred. 
Whereas in Heaven is love (and there are days
When yet I can recall what love was like),
Is naught to fear.  A threatening makes the whole,
And clogged with strong conditions:  ’O, repent,
Man, and I turn,’ He, therefore, powerful now,
And more so, master, that ye bide in clay,
Threateneth that He may save.  They shall not die.”

The dragon said, “I tremble, I am sick.” 
He said with pain of heart, “How am I fallen! 
For I keep silence; yea, I have withdrawn
From haunting of His gates, and shouting up
Defiance.  Wherefore doth He hunt me out
From this small world, this little one, that I
Have been content to take unto myself,
I here being loved and worshipped?  He knoweth
How much I have foregone; and must He stoop
To whelm the world, and heave the floors o’ the deep,
Of purpose to pursue me from my place? 
And since I gave men knowledge, must He take
Their length of days whereby they perfect it? 
So shall He scatter all that I have stored,
And get them by degrading them.  I know
That in the end it is appointed me
To fade.  I will not fade before the time.”

A spirit rose, the third, a spirit ashamed
And subtle, and his face he turned aside: 
“Whereas,” said he, “we strive against both power
And love, behoves us that we strive aright. 
Now some of old my comrades, yesterday
I met, as they did journey to appear
In the Presence; and I said, ’My master lieth
Sick yonder, otherwise (for no decree
There stands against it) he would also come