’To wake, and lead him to the caves that held
The treasure of the secrets of its reign. 
See the great bards of elder time, who quelled

’The passions which they sung, as by their strain 275
May well be known:  their living melody
Tempers its own contagion to the vein

’Of those who are infected with it—­I
Have suffered what I wrote, or viler pain! 
And so my words have seeds of misery—­ 180

‘Even as the deeds of others, not as theirs.’ 
And then he pointed to a company,

’Midst whom I quickly recognized the heirs
Of Caesar’s crime, from him to Constantine;
The anarch chiefs, whose force and murderous snares 285

Had founded many a sceptre-bearing line,
And spread the plague of gold and blood abroad: 
And Gregory and John, and men divine,

Who rose like shadows between man and God;
Till that eclipse, still hanging over heaven, 290
Was worshipped by the world o’er which they strode,

For the true sun it quenched—­’Their power was given
But to destroy,’ replied the leader:—­’I
Am one of those who have created, even

’If it be but a world of agony.’—­ 295
’Whence camest thou? and whither goest thou? 
How did thy course begin?’ I said, ’and why?

’Mine eyes are sick of this perpetual flow
Of people, and my heart sick of one sad thought—­
Speak!’—­’Whence I am, I partly seem to know, 300

’And how and by what paths I have been brought
To this dread pass, methinks even thou mayst guess;—­
Why this should be, my mind can compass not;

’Whither the conqueror hurries me, still less;—­
But follow thou, and from spectator turn 305
Actor or victim in this wretchedness,

’And what thou wouldst be taught I then may learn
From thee.  Now listen:—­In the April prime,
When all the forest-tips began to burn

’With kindling green, touched by the azure clime 310
Of the young season, I was laid asleep
Under a mountain, which from unknown time

’Had yawned into a cavern, high and deep;
And from it came a gentle rivulet,
Whose water, like clear air, in its calm sweep 315

’Bent the soft grass, and kept for ever wet
The stems of the sweet flowers, and filled the grove
With sounds, which whoso hears must needs forget

’All pleasure and all pain, all hate and love,
Which they had known before that hour of rest; 320
A sleeping mother then would dream not of

’Her only child who died upon the breast
At eventide—­a king would mourn no more
The crown of which his brows were dispossessed