Pedro Calderón de la Barca

Nor Nature's guiltless life alone—

But that which lives on blood and rapine; nay,

Charter'd with larger liberty to slay

Their guiltless kind, the tyrants of the air

Soar zenith-upward with their screaming prey,

Making pure heaven drop blood upon the stage

Of under earth, where lion, wolf, and bear,

And they that on their treacherous velvet wear

Figure and constellation like your own,

With their still living slaughter bound away

Over the barriers of the mountain cage,

Against which one, blood-guiltless, and endued

With aspiration and with aptitude

Transcending other creatures, day by day

Beats himself mad with unavailing rage!