A SOLDIER you have borne the Getic sky,
And watched the sluggish Wain with careful eye.
But now you travel further from us still
Even to Prometheus and his storied hill.
How will you cry when those grim rocks you see,
Whereon he suffered — " Yet more hard was he."
And then will add — " Who could such pains endure,
Was fit to mould the race of man, be sure.