Over the widely-spreading races of mankind, ruled aforetime an iron Destiny with silent power.  A dark and heavy band was around man’s anxious soul; without end was the earth; the home of the gods and their abode.  Throughout eternities had her mysterious structure stood.  Beyond the red mountains of the morning, in the holy bosom of the sea, there dwelt the Sun, the all-inflaming, living light.  A hoary giant bare the sacred world.  Securely prisoned, beneath mountains, lay the first sons of the mother Earth, powerless in their destructive fury against the new and glorious race of the gods, and their kindred, joyous men.  The dark, green ocean’s depth was the bosom of a goddess.  In the crystal grottoes rioted a voluptuous tribe.  Rivers, trees, flowers, and brute beasts had human understanding.  Sweeter was the wine poured forth by youth’s soft bloom; a god in the vine’s clusters; a loving, a maternal goddess, shooting forth among the full, golden sheaves; love’s holy flame, a delicious service to the most beauteous of the goddesses.  An ever gay and joyous festival of heaven’s children and the dwellers upon earth, life rustled on as a spring, through centuries.  All races venerated, like children, the tender, thousand-fold flame, as the highest of the world; one thought only was there, one hideous vision of a dream:-

“That fearful to the joyous tables came,
   And the gay soul in wild distraction shrouded. 
Here could the gods themselves no counsel frame,
   That might console the breast with sorrow clouded. 
This monster’s path mysterious, still the same,
   Unstilled his rage, though prayers on gifts were crowded. 
His name was Death, who with distress of soul,
Anguish and tears, on the hour of pleasure stole.

For ever now from everything departed
   That here can swell the heart with sweet delight,
Torn now from the beloved one, who, sad-hearted,
   On earth could but desire and grief excite,
A feeble dream seemed to the dead imparted,
   Powerless striving made man’s only right;
And broken was enjoyment’s heaving billow,
Upon the rock of endless care, its pillow.

With daring mind, as heavenly fancy glows,
   Man masks the fearful shape with fair resembling: 
His torch put out, a mild youth doth repose;
   Soft is the end as the lyre’s mournful trembling. 
Remembrance fades i’ the gloom a shadow throws: 
   So sang the song, a dreadful doom dissembling. 
Yet undefined remained eternal Night,
The stern reminder of some distant might.”

At length the old world bowed its head.  The gay gardens of the young race were withered; beyond into the freer, desert space aspired less childish and maturing man.  The gods then vanished with their train.  Lonely and lifeless, Nature stood.  The scanty number and the rigid measure bound her with fetters of iron.  As into dust and air melted the inconceivable blossoms of life into mysterious