Prometheus

Fire, fire for man! to temper the cold clod
     Fire from the burning felloes of the sun,
     Pure and celestial, through his heart to run
In bounding pulses like his natural blood;
What hand shall snatch it from the jealous God,
     And round in soul the work in day begun?
     Thine, O Prometheus! God and Man in one,
Creator and Redeemer! Whose strong rod
Draws light for man, and lightning for thyself,
     From the slow heavens whose thunders never lay;
     For this thou longest o’er the immanent gulf
     In iron rivets to the granite crag,
While vulture Hate’s remorseless beak is dyed
In thy all loving heart, Betrayed and Crucified!