Dark were the ages, dark was the time, Dark was the day, dark was night, Mankind sans guidance indulged in crime, The world was its darkest, needful o' light, Its fate, its destiny, unclear as slime. Dark, alike all, a sandy city lay, Where first in the world rose the Day, And in faraway lands shatter'd the clay, Of Ceaser's architecture ; and out was the fire, Of the Magians of the East ; and cry'd a cryer, In the city: "Behold! A son is born, A grandson of our cheiftain." That son orphan'd in early age, Left to his uncle, once went along, To Syria for trade, and met the sage, "This boy, I tell you, will be great, A prophecy'd prophet he'll be, He'll rise, and the world will see, He'll rise, and Satan will flee." Such was the priest's prophecy. Years then passed, and in one cave, A man of forty, in deep-thought, Sat, as he for guidance did crave, And as he there dwelt, he felt, Felt the presence of a noble angel, "Read,...
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