id="id00172"> XIV

  So, in the glorious parable, behold
  How, bow'd to mortal bonds, of old
    Life's dreary path divine Alcides trod:
  The hydra and the lion were his prey,
  And to restore the friend he loved today,
    He went undaunted to the black-brow'd God;
  And all the torments and the labors sore
    Wroth Juno sent—the meek majestic One,
  With patient spirit and unquailing, bore,
    Until the course was run—

XV

  Until the God cast down his garb of clay,
  And rent in hallowing flame away
    The mortal part from the divine—to soar
  To the empyreal air! Behold him spring
  Blithe in the pride of the unwonted wing,
    And the dull matter that confined before
  Sinks downward, downward, downward as a dream!
    Olympian hymns receive the escaping soul,
  And smiling Hebe, from the ambrosial stream,
    Fills for a God the bowl!

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