VII
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
· (no date)
Published 01/07/1880
Part of Hymn to Mercury, translated from the Greek of Homer
Then scooping with a chisel of gray steel,
He bored the life and soul out of the beast.—
Not swifter a swift thought of woe or weal
Darts through the tumult of a human breast
Which thronging cares annoy—not swifter wheel
The flashes of its torture and unrest
Out of the dizzy eyes—than Maia's son
All that he did devise hath featly done.