When to the utmost we have tasked our powers, And Nem'esis still frowns and shakes her head; When, wearied out and baffled, we confess Our utter weakness, and the tired hand drops, And Hope flees from us, and in blank despair We sink to earth, the face, so stern before, August will smile--the hand before withdrawn Reach out the help we vainly pleaded for, Take up our task, and in a moment do What all our strength was powerless to achieve. Unless the gods smile, human toil is vain. The crowning blessing of all work is drawn Not from ourselves, but from the powers above. And this none better knew than Chersiphron, When on the plains of Ephesus he reared The splendid temple built to Artemis. With patient labor he had placed at last The solid jambs on either side the door, And now for many a weary day he strove With many a plan and many a fresh device, Still seeking and still failing, on the jambs Level to lay the lintel's massive weight: Still it defied him; and, worn out at last, Along the steps he laid him down at night. Sleep would not come. With dull distracting pain The problem hunted through his feverish thoughts, Till in his dark despair he longed for death, And threatened his own life with his own hand. Peace came at last upon him, and he slept; And in his sleep, before his dreaming eyes He saw the form divine of Artemis: O'er him she bent and smiled, and softly said, "Live, Chersiphron! Who labor for the gods The gods reward. Behold, your work is done!" Then, like a mist that melts into the sky, She vanished; and awaking, he beheld, Laid by her hand above the entrance-door, The ponderous lintel level on the jambs. --W. W. STORY.