Nor more would venture on. Deaf to the eager rider’s call, Who spurred to mount the Olympian wall, It stood like lifeless stone A moment—then, with sudden wheel, Earthward its flight it ’gan to reel; For awful now were heard to peal Sharp thunders from the pole, And lightnings flashed, and darkly spread O’er that rash rider’s impious head The sulphurous clouds did roll. With eager gust the fiery storm Resistless whirled his quaking form Down through the choking air. Loud and more loud the thunders swell— Him with blind speed the winds impel; Three times three days and nights he fell Down through the choking air. At length, in mazy terror lost, Him the celestial courser tossed With fiercely-fretted mane; And, by the close-involving blast Impetuous hurried, he was cast On the Aleian[11] plain. XI. Senseless, but lifeless not, he lay. The gods had mercy shown If they had slain, on that black day, The blasted Glaucus’ son; But all the gods conspired to hate The man, with impious pride elate, Who dared to scale the sky. Year after year, from that black day, He pined his meagre life away, Weak as a cloud or vapour grey, And vainly wished to die. On a wide waste, without a tree, The unfrequent traveller there might see The once great Glaucus’ son. Far from the haunts and from the tread Of men, a joyless life he led; On folly’s fruitage there he fed, Dejected and alone; Even as a witless boy at school, Would sit and gaze into a pool The blank Bellerophon; Or to bring forth the blindworm red That, creeping, loves a lightless bed, Would turn the old grey stone. And thus he lived, and thus he died, And ended to the brute allied, Who like a god began; And he hath gained a painful fame, And marred immortal praise with blame, And taught to whoso names his name, PRIDE WAS NOT MADE FOR MAN! J. S. B. THE COMING FORTUNES OF OUR COLONIES IN THE PACIFIC.