Prologue

O power, beyond the mind of puny men,

That stirs our hearts to leave the well-worn ways

For travel through some distant, trackless fen–

Though yet unhallowed grave may end our days–

Now let us move from darkest, hidden birth.

False recollections of great, former times

May draw us back; but, as with mother Earth–

Which forged from minute minutes season's rhymes:

Raw spring, bold summer, now autumnal gold

That glitters and allures enfeebled mind–

Like Earth, so we must spawn a child to hold

Ere winter's kiss leaves naught but frost behind.

 

            This universal story each man knows

            Which, constant in retelling, constant grows.

 

                                    * * * * *

 

            Our scene unfolds now: different climes,

            Peopled through such far flung times

                        As make a universe.

            Yet all compacted in one span:

            Breath of but a single man,

                        Who grows to this discourse.