Nay, the very ships, those giant swans breasting the mighty waters, And yet, in travelling the world, hast thou not often known Hast thou not often seen the wanton luxury of indolence Hath emptied the vial of confusion over a thousand homes: Alas! for the palaces and hovels, that might have been nurseries for heaven, By hot intestine broils blighted into schools for hell : None knoweth his place, yet all refuse to serve, None weareth the crown, yet all usurp the sceptre : And perhance some fiercer spirit, of natural nobility of mind, That needed but the kindness of constraint to have grown up great and good, Now, the rich harvest of his heart choked by unweeded tares,— All bold to dare and do, unchecked by wholesome fear, A scoffer about bigotry and priestcraft, a rebel against government and God, Brandishing the torch of discord in his village-home : And the timid Eli of the house, yon humble parish-priest, The mother, heart-stricken years agone, hath dropped into an early grave, A kingdom is a nest of families, and a family a small kingdom; But and if he yieldeth up the reins, it is weak in discordant anarchy, The authorized supremacy of one, the prescriptive subjection of many : Therefore, to this our day, the Rechabite wanteth not a man, (1o) OF REST. (11) In the silent watches of the night, calm night that breedeth thoughts, ( *) Then I noted adders in the grass, and pitfalls under the flowers, And chasms yawned among the hills, and the ground was cracked and slippery : But Hope and her brother Fear suffered not a foot to linger; Bright phantoms of false joys beckoned alluringly forward, While yelling grisly shapes of dread came hunting on behind : And ceaselessly, like Lapland swarms, that miserable crowd sped along To the mist-involved banks of a dark and sullen river. There saw I, midway in the water, standing a giant fisher, And he held many lines in his hand, and they called him Iron Destiny. So I tracked those subtle chains, and cach held one among the multitude : 'Then I understood what hindered, that they rested not in their path: For the fisher had sport in his fishing, and drew in his lines continually, And the new-born babe, and the aged man, were dragged into that dark river: And he pulled all those myriads along, and none might rest by the way, Till many, for sheer wearinsss, were eager to plunge into the drowning stream. So I knew that valley was Life, and it sloped to the waters of Death. And it seemed they would have told me much, but they might not break that silence; For the law of their being was mystery: they glided on, hushing as they went. Yet further, under the sun, at the roots of purple mountains, I noted a blaze of glory, as the night-fires on northern skies ; And far as the eye could reach, were millions of happy creatures Then the hill whereon I stood split asunder, and a crater yawned at my feet, Dimly was the darkness lit up by spires of distant flame: And I saw below a moving mass of life, like reptiles bred in corruption, Where all was terrible unrest, shrieks and groans and thunder. So I woke, and I thought upon my dream: for it seemed of wisdom's ministration. What man is he that findeth rest, though he hunt for it year after year There remaineth a rest for the spirit on the shadowy side of life; Ever, from stage to stage, he travelleth wearily forward, And though he pluck flowers by the way, he may not sleep among the flowers. Mind is the perpetual motion; for it is a running stream From an unfathomable source, the depth of the divine Intelligence: The surface may sleep unruffled, but underneath are whirlpools of con tention. Seekest thou rest, O mortal?-seek it no more on earth, For destiny will not cease from dragging thee through the rough wilderness of life; Seekest thou rest, O immortal?-hope not to find it in Heaven, For sloth yieldeth not happiness; the bliss of a spirit is action. Rest dwelleth only on an island in the midst of the ocean of existence, OF HUMILITY. VICE is grown aweary of her gawds, and donneth russet garments, For Pride hath noted how all admire the fairness of Humility, And to clutch the praise he coveteth, is content to be drest in hair-cloth; And wily Lust tempteth the young heart, that is proof against the bravery of harlots, With timid tears and retiring looks of an artless seeming maid; And Slander, snake-like, creepeth in the dust, thinking to escape recrimination. But the world hath gained somewhat from its years, and is quick to penetrate disguises: Neither in all these is it easily deceived, but rightly divideth the true from the false. Yet there is a meanness of spirit that is fair in the eyes of most men, persecution. But what! art thou not a man, deputed chief of the creation ? Art thou not a soldier of the right, militant for God and good? Shall virtue and truth be degraded, because thou art too base to uphold them? And that resignation is but mock, where the burden is not felt: Suspect thyself and thy meekness: thou art mean and indifferent to sin; And the heart that should grieve and forgive, is case-hardened and forgetteth. Humility mainly becometh the converse of man with his Maker, Render unto all men their due, but remember thou also art a man, And cheat not thyself of the reverence which is owing to thy reasonable being. Be courteous, and listen, and learn: but teach and answer if thou canst: Serve thee of thy neighbour's wisdom, but be not enslaved as to a master. Where thou perceivest knowledge, bend the ear of attention and respect; But yield not further to the teaching, than as thy mind is warranted by reasons. Better is an obstinate disputant, that yieldeth inch by inch, Than the shallow traitor to himself, who surrendereth to half an argument. Modesty winneth good report, but scorn cometh close upon servility; |