The Inner Fate: A Chorus

NOT weak with eld The stars beheld Proud Persia coming to her doom; Not battle-broke, nor tempest-tossed, The long luxurious galleys lost Their souls at Actium.

Not outer arts Of hostile hearts Persuaded him of France to be The wreckage of his wars at last, The orphan of the kingdoms, cast Upon the mothering sea.

Man evermore doth work his will, And evermore the gods are still, Applauding him alone who stands Too just for heaven-accusing groans, And in his house of havoc owns The doing of his hands; Transgressor, yet divinely taught To suffer all, blaspheming naught, When fair-begun must foul conclude: Himself progenitor of death, Who breeds, within, the only breath Can kill beatitude.