Prometheus when first from heaven high

He brought dowe fire, ‘ere then on earth not seen,

Fond of Delight, a Satyr standing by

Gave it a kiss, as it like Sweet had been.

Feeling forthwith the other’s burning power,

Wood with the smart, with shouts and shreaking shrill,

He sought his ease in river, field and bower,

But for the time his grief went with him still.

So silly I, with that unwonted sight

In human shape, an angel from above,

Feeding mine eyes, th’impressione there did light,

That since I rest and run as pleaseth Love.

The difference is, the Satyr’s lips, my heart —

He for a time, I evermore, — have smart.