Tell wider prophecies to me."

* * * * *

"When rust hath gnaw'd me deep and red;
A nation strong shall lift his head!

* * * * *

"His crown the very Heav'ns shall smite,
Aeons shall build him in his might!"

* * * * *

"Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree;
Bright Seer, help on thy prophecy!"

* * * * *

Max smote the snow-weigh'd tree and lightly laugh'd.
"See, friend," he cried to one that look'd and smil'd,
"My axe and I--we do immortal tasks--
We build up nations--this my axe and I!"
"O," said the other with a cold, short smile,
"Nations are not immortal! is there now
"One nation thron'd upon the sphere of earth,
"That walk'd with the first Gods, and saw
"The budding world unfold its slow-leav'd flow'r?
"Nay; it is hardly theirs to leave behind
"Ruins so eloquent, that the hoary sage