Xii

But, do you see, my friend, that thus You leave Saint Paul for Æschylus? --Who made his Titan's arch-device The giving men blind hopes to spice The meal of life with, else devoured In bitter haste, while lo, death loured Before them at the platter's edge! If faith should be, as I allege, Quite other than a condiment To heighten flavors with, or meant (Like that brave curry of his Grace) To take at need the victuals' place? If, having dined, you would digest Besides, and turning to your rest Should find instead ...