Good Sir Paulus, noble robber,
Gloomy-browed the gods regard thee;
Direst anger and displeasure
Is the meed they will award thee.

Thou hast stolen from Olympus,
From the treasures that divine be;
And, if Jove's policemen catch thee,
The Promethean doom will thine be.

True, he stole what even worse was:
Stole the light in flame upwelling,
To illume the souls of mortals —
Thou hast stolen the works of Schelling:

Just the opposite of radiance;
Their abysmal darkness such is,
(Like the plague of ancient Egypt),
That one handles it and touches.