|All life is voyaging, all life in motion,|
Moon, stars, and creatures of air and ocean.
|To you the champion, the lord of battle,|
Bright angels offer their swords’ devotion—
|But of that blindness, that caravan spirit!|
Of your own greatness you have no notion.
|How long this bondage to darkness? Choose now:|
A prince’s scepter,—a hermit’s potion.
|I know our priesthood, how faint in action,|
In sermons pouring a languid lotion.
Translated by: V.G. Kiernan