A VARIATION.
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outh rambles on life’s arid mount,And strikes the rock, and finds the vein,And brings the water from the fount,--The fount which shall not flow again. The man mature with labor chopsFor the bright stream a channel grand,And sees not that the sacred dropsRan off and vanished out of hand. And then the old man totters nigh,And feebly rakes among the stones.The mount is mute, the channel dry;And down he lays his weary bones. _PIS ALLER._ “Man is blind because of sin;Revelation makes him sure:Without that, who looks withinLooks in vain, for all’s obscure.” Nay, look closer into man!Tell me, can you find indeedNothing sure, no moral planClear prescribed, without your creed? “No, I nothing can perceive!Without that, all’s dark for men.That, or nothing, I believe.”--For God’s sake, believe it, then! _THE LAST WORD._ Creep into thy narrow bed,--Creep, and let no more be said.Vain thy onset! all stands fast.Thou thyself must break at last. Let the long contention cease!Geese are swans, and swans are geese.Let them have it how they will!Thou art tired: best be still. They out-talked thee, hissed thee, tore thee?Better men fared thus before thee;Fired their ringing shot, and passed,Hotly charged--and sank at last. Charge once more, then, and be dumb!Let the victors, when they come,When the forts of folly fall,Find thy body by the wall! _A NAMELESS EPITAPH._ Ask not my name, O friend!That Being only, which hath known each manFrom the beginning, canRemember each unto the end. _EMPEDOCLES ON ETNA._
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