Normale Version: The Steam-Engine
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The Steam-Engine

Off, ye Mastodons, Megalosauroi vast
And monstrous, Nature's ruder tentatives;
Her clumsier essays, of which nought survives
But fossil-bones--dread nightmares of the Past,
Which her less skilful hand in rude moulds cast,
Then brake them; as a 'prentice tries and strives,
Until the cunning of his hand arrives
At full perfection, forms matured, to last;--
Off to dark Night and Chaos! And, instead,
Come thou, true creature of intelligence,
Warm-blooded, on Promethean fire fed;
Born of Man's brain, partaking of his sense;
By Science out of Civilisation bred:
Mightier than these whom thou would'st drive from hence!