e:
But while I look, two of them meet and clash,
And pile their way with ruin. One is rolled
Down a steep bank; one through a broken bridge
Is dashed into a flood. Dead, dying, wounded,
Are there as in a battle-field. Are these
Your modern triumphs? Jove preserve me from them.

SPIRIT-RAPPER
These ills are rare. Millions are borne in safety
Where ore incurs mischance. Look yet again.

GRYLLUS
I see a mass of light brighter than that
Which burned in Circe's palace, and beneath it
A motley crew, dancing to joyous music.
But from that light explosion comes, and flame;
And forth the dancers rush in haste and fear
From their wide-blazing hall.

SPIRIT-RAPPER
Oh, Circe! Circe!
Thou show'st him all the evil of our arts
In more than just proportion to the good.
Good without evil is not given to man.
Jove, from his urns dispensing good and ill,
Gives all unmixed to some, and good and ill
Mingled to many--good unmixed to none.{1}
Our arts are good. The inevitable ill
That mixes with them, as with all things human,
Is as a drop of water in a goblet
Full of old wine.

1 This is the true sense of the Homeric passage:--

(Greek passage)
Homer: ii. xxiv.

There are only two distributions: good and ill mixed, and
unmixed ill. None, as Heyne has observed, receive unmixed
good. Ex dolio bonorum....

GRYLLUS
More than one drop, I fear,
And those of bitter water.

CIRCE
There is yet
An ample field of scientific triumph:
What shall we show him next?

SFIRIT-RAPPER
Pause we awhile,
He is not in the mood to feel conviction
Of our superior greatness. He is all
For rural comfort and domestic ease,
But our impulsive days are all for moving:
Sometimes with some ulterior end, but still
For moving, moving, always. There is nothing
Common between us in our points of judgment.
He takes his stand upon tranquillity,
We ours upon excitement. There we place
The being, end, and aim of mortal life,
The many are with us: some few, perhaps,
With him. We put the question to the vote
By universal suffrage. Aid us, Circe I
On tajismanic wings youi spells can waft
The question and reply* Are we not wiser,
Happier, and better, than the men of