P A R T  I I  
 
WHEN God bethought Him, and the world began, 
He made moist clay, and breathed on it, that 
man 
Might be most frail and feeble, and like earth 
Shrink at Death’s finger from the hour of birth ; 
And like the sea by limits of pale sand 
Be utterly confined ;  but so He planned 
To vivify the body with the soul, 
That fire and air were wedded to control 
The heavy bulk beneath them, so His breath 
Touched the warm clay and violated death, 
Gave to the spirit wings and bade it rise 
To seek its Maker with aspiring eyes, 
Gave to the body strength to hold awhile 
The spirit, till the passions that defile 
Should waste and wither, and the free soul soar. 
But evil lusted with the soul, and bore 
A thousand children deadlier than death ; 
The sin that enters with the eager breath