The Daemon of the World

Nopy the wave, Which like a toil-worn labourer leaps to shore, To meet the kisses of the flowerets there. Man chief perceives the change, his being notes. The gradual renovation, and defines. Each movement of its progress on his mind. Man, where the gloom of the long polar night. Lowered o'er the snow-clad rocks and frozen soil, Where scarce the hardiest herb that braves the frost. Basked in the moonlight's ineffectual glow, Shrank with the plants, and darkened with the night; Nor where the tropics bound the realms of day. With a broad belt of mingling cloud and flame, Where blue mists through the unmoving atmosphere . Scattered the seeds of pestilence, and fed. Unnatural vegetation, where the land. Teemed with all earthquake, tempest and disease. Was man a nobler being; slavery. Had crushed him to his country's blood-stained dust. Even where the milder zone afforded man. A seeming shelter, yet contagion there, Blighting his being.