On things terrene, then, I would say that though The human news wherewith the Rumours stirred us May please thy temper, Years, 'twere better far Such deeds were nulled, and this strange man's career Wound up, as making inharmonious jars In her creation whose meek wraith we know. The more that he, turned man of mere traditions, Now profits naught. For the large potencies Instilled into his idiosyncrasy-- To throne fair Liberty in Privilege' room-- Are taking taint, and sink to common plots For his own gain. SHADE OF THE EARTH And who, then, Cordial One, Wouldst substitute for this Intractable? CHORUS OF THE EARTH We would establish those of kindlier build, In fair Compassions skilled, Men of deep art in life-development; Watchers and warders of thy varied lands, Men surfeited of laying heavy hands, Upon the innocent, The mild, the fragile, the obscure content Among the myriads of thy family. Those, too, who love the true, the excellent, And make their daily moves a melody. SHADE OF THE EARTH They may come, will they. I am not averse. Yet know I am but the ineffectual Shade Of her the Travailler, herself a thrall To It; in all her labourings curbed and kinged! SPIRIT OF THE YEARS Shall such be mooted now? Already change Hath played strange pranks since first I brooded here. But old Laws operate yet; and phase and phase Of men's dynastic and imperial moils Shape on accustomed lines. Though, as for me, I care not thy shape, or what they be. SPIRIT OF THE PITIES You seem to have small sense of mercy, Sire? SPIRIT OF THE YEARS Mercy I view, not urge;--nor more than mark What designate your titles Good and Ill. 'Tis not in me to feel with, or against, These flesh-hinged mannikins Its hand upwinds To click-clack off Its preadjusted laws; But only through my centuries to behold Their aspects, and their movements, and their mould. SPIRIT OF THE PITIES They are shapes that bleed, mere mannikins or no, And each has parcel in the total Will. SPIRIT OF THE YEARS Which overrides them as a whole its parts In other entities. SPIRIT SINISTER [aside] Limbs of Itself: Each one a jot of It in quaint disguise? I'll fear all men henceforward! SPIRIT OF THE PITIES Go to. Let this terrestrial tragedy-- SPIRIT IRONIC Nay, Comedy-- SPIRIT OF THE PITIES Let this earth-tragedy Whereof we spake, afford a spectacle Forthwith conned closelier than your custom is.-- SPIRIT OF THE YEARS