Henry Ellison - The Steam-Engine lyrics

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!