selfishness, ever shines attractively our Polar Star: 6.6 "When from the lips of Truth one mighty breath Shall, like a whirlwind scatter in its breeze The whole dark pile of human mockeries, Already, see, the hallowed branches wave! BURST OPE, YE BARS! YE GATES, YOUR HEADS DECLINE! HE COMES THE GOD OF LIGHT! THE GOD'S AT HAND! Bird of the night! Minerva bade thee fly Only at length, when dusky evening fades, That then to heights of metaphor thine eye Might dart, or dive in allegory's shades; To know, and with thy knowledge be discreet, Close with the many, freely with the wise To hold communion, still to keep thy seat, When birds of lighter feather think to rise. Quick, with the lightening fire she caught from Jove, Clear, as the northern lights in ether play, The sister Muses, singly floating by, Of proud Prometheus, and the Titan war; Young conquering Bacchus, not the reeling clown, The guerdon gained from Heaven's Omnipotence. Lifting dull sense through Heaven's high portal wide, Not wooden Hermes with the timber toe, Nor Vulcan with the vulgar fire below, Nor Venus from Apelles' hand just free. Unveiled the Eleusinian mystic rite, Sad Ceres, and the ravish'd Proserpine, Hades, and Styx, and Erebus, and night, Nox, O Noctua! clear as day was thine. Glorious Apollo, and the Python slain By his bright arm, and virtue's deadlier hate, Old Saturn in his golden youth again, On food like this she bade thee ruminate. And thou wilt still feed on, and drink thy fill, Through musing generations yet unborn, Drink Wisdom from the pure Parnassian rill, And ruminate on Amalthæa's horn. Blind world! seems not this owl a type of thee? |