Lone and discarded one! divorced by fate,
From thy wished-for fellows-whither art flown?
Where lingerest thou in thy bereaved estate,
Like some lost star, or buried meteor stone?
Thou mindst me much of that presumptuous one
Who loth, aught less than greatest, to be great,
From Heavens immensity fell headlong down
To live forlorn, self-centred, desolate:
Or who, new Heraklid, hard exile bore,
Now buoyed by hope, now stretched on rack of fear,
Till throned Astr忙a, wafting to his ear
Works of dim portent through the Atlantic roar,
Bade him 鈥渢he sanctuary of the Muse revere
And strew with flame the dust of Isis shore.鈥�
Read more: 鈥�Victorian scientists鈥� poetry: An anthology鈥�