have fail'd, unblamed."
How such ideas of th' Almighty's power,
And such ideas of th' Almighty's plan
(Ideas not absurd), distend the thought
Of feeble mortals! Nor of them alone!
The fulness of the Deity breaks forth
In inconceivables to men, and gods.
Think, then, oh, think; nor ever drop the thought;
How low must man descend, when gods adore! 1940
Have I not, then, accomplish'd my proud boast?
Did I not tell thee, "We would mount, Lorenzo! 1942
And kindle our devotion at the stars"?
And have I fail'd? and did I flatter thee?
And art all adamant? and dost confute
All urged, with one irrefragable smile?
Lorenzo! mirth how miserable here!
Swear by the stars, by Him who made them, swear,
Thy heart, henceforth, shall be as pure as they:
Then thou, like them, shalt shine; like them, shalt rise
From low to lofty; from obscure to bright; 1951
By due gradation, Nature's sacred law.
The stars, from whence?--Ask Chaos--he can tell.
These bright temptations to idolatry,
From darkness, and confusion, took their birth;
Sons of deformity! from fluid dregs
Tartarean, first they rose to masses rude;
And then, to spheres opaque; then dimly shone;
Then brighten'd; then blazed out in perfect day.
Nature delights in progress; in advance 1960
From worse to better: but, when minds ascend,
Progress, in part, depends upon themselves.
Heaven aids exertion; greater makes the great;
The voluntary little lessens more.
Oh, be a man! and thou shalt be a god!
And half self-made!--Ambition how divine!
O thou, ambitious of disgrace alone!
Still undevout? unkindled?--Though high-taught,
School'd by the skies, and pupil of the stars;
Rank coward to the fashionable world! 1970
Art thou ashamed to bend thy knee to heaven?
Cursed fume of pride, exhaled from deepest hell!
Pride in religion is man's highest praise.
Bent on destruction! and in love with death!
Not all these luminaries, quench'd at once,
Were half so sad, as one benighted mind, 1976
Which gropes for happiness, and meets despair.
How, like a widow in her weeds, the Night,
Amid her glimmering tapers, silent sits!
How sorrowful, how desolate, she weeps
Perpetual dews, and saddens nature's scene!
A scene more sad sin makes the darken'd so