Look not thou down but up! To uses of a cup, The festal board, lamp’s flash, and trumpet’s peal, The new wine’s foaming flow, The Master’s lips aglow! Thou, heaven’s consummate cup, what needst thou with earth’s wheel?
But I need, now as then, Thee, God, who mouldest men! And since, not even while the whirl was worst, Did I,--to the wheel of life With shapes and colors rife, Bound dizzily,--mistake my end, to slake Thy thirst:
So, take and use Thy work, Amend what flaws may lurk, What strain o’ the stuff, what warpings past the aim! My times be in Thy hand! Perfect the cup as planned! Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same!
Shortly after the Revival of Learning in Europe.
Let us begin and carry up this corpse, Singing together. Leave we the common crofts, the vulgar thorpes, Each in its tether Sleeping safe in the bosom of the plain, Cared-for till cock-crow: Look out if yonder be not day again Rimming the rock-row! That’s the appropriate country; there, man’s thought, Rarer, intenser, { 10} Self-gathered for an outbreak, as it ought, Chafes in the censer. Leave we the unlettered plain its herd and crop; Seek we sepulture On a tall mountain, citied to the top, Crowded with culture! All the peaks soar, but one the rest excels; Clouds overcome it; No, yonder sparkle is the citadel’s Circling its summit. { 20} Thither our path lies; wind we up the heights! Wait ye the warning? Our low life was the level’s and the night’s: He’s for the morning. Step to a tune, square chests, erect each head, ‘Ware the beholders! This is our master, famous, calm, and dead, Borne on our shoulders.
Sleep, crop and herd! sleep, darkling thorpe and croft Safe from the weather! { 30} He, whom we convoy to his grave aloft, Singing together, He was a man born with thy face and throat, Lyric Apollo! Long he lived nameless: how should spring take note Winter would follow? Till lo, the little touch, and youth was gone! Cramped and diminished, Moaned he, “New measures, other feet anon! “My dance is finished?” { 40} No, that’s the world’s way; (keep the mountain-side, Make for the city!) He knew the signal, and stepped on with pride Over men’s pity; Left play for work, and grappled with the world Bent on escaping: “What’s in the scroll,” quoth he, “thou keepest furled? Show me their shaping, Theirs who most studied man, the bard and sage,-- Give!”--So, he gowned him, { 50} Straight got by heart that book to its last page: Learned, we found him. Yea, but we found him bald too, eyes like lead, Accents uncertain: “Time to taste life,” another would have said, “Up with the curtain!” This man said rather, “Actual life comes next? Patience a moment! Grant I have mastered learning’s crabbed text, Still there’s the comment. { 60} Let me know all! Prate not of most or least, Painful or easy! Even to the crumbs I’d fain eat up the feast, Ay, nor feel queasy.” Oh, such a life as he resolved to live, When he had learned it, When he had gathered all books had to give! Sooner, he spurned it. Image the whole, then execute the parts-- Fancy the fabric { 70} Quite, ere you build, ere steel strike fire from quartz, Ere mortar dab brick!
