PR. Yet impious only till thou dost believe.
IN. And what believe? Ah, if I could believe! It was but now thou saidst that there was fire, 430 And I was near believing; I believed: Now to believe were to be mad as thou.
CHORUS. He may be mad and yet say true--maybe The heat of prophecy like a strong wine Shameth his reason with exultant speech.
PR. Thou say'st I am mad, and of my sober words Hast called those impious which thou fearest true, Those which thou knowest good, incredible. Consider ere thou judge: be first assured All is not good for man that seems god's will. 440 See, on thy farming skill, thy country toil Which bends to aid the willing fruits of earth, And would promote the seasonable year, The face of nature is not always kind: And if thou search the sum of visible being To find thy blessing featured, 'tis not there: Her best gifts cannot brim the golden cup Of expectation which thine eager arms Lift to her mouthèd horn--what then is this Whose wide capacity outbids the scale 450 Of prodigal beauty, so that the seeing eye And hearing ear, retiring unamazed Within their quiet chambers, sit to feast With dear imagination, nor look forth As once they did upon the varying air? Whence is the fathering of this desire Which mocks at fated circumstance? nay though Obstruction lie as cumbrous as the mountains, Nor thy particular hap hath armed desire Against the brunt of evil,--yet not for this 460 Faints man's desire: it is the unquenchable Original cause, the immortal breath of being: Nor is there any spirit on Earth astir, Nor 'neath the airy vault, nor yet beyond In any dweller in far-reaching space, Nobler or dearer than the spirit of man: That spirit which lives in each and will not die, That wooeth beauty, and for all good things Urgeth a voice, or in still passion sigheth, And where he loveth draweth the heart with him. 470 Hast thou not heard him speaking oft and oft, Prompting thy secret musings and now shooting His feathered fancies, or in cloudy sleep Piling his painted dreams? O hark to him! For else if folly shut his joyous strength To mope in her dark prison without praise, The hidden tears with which he wails his wrong Will sour the fount of life. O hark to him! Him may'st thou trust beyond the things thou seest. For many things there be upon this earth 480 Unblest and fallen from beauty, to mislead Man's mind, and in a shadow justify The evil thoughts and deeds that work his ill; Fear, hatred, lust and strife, which, if man question The heavenborn spirit within him, are not there. Yet are they bold of face, and Zeus himself, Seeing that Mischief held her head on high, Lest she should go beyond his power to quell And draw the inevitable Fate that waits On utmost ill, himself preventing Fate 490 Hasted to drown the world, and now would crush Thy little remnant: but among the gods Is one whose love and courage stir for thee; Who being of manlike spirit, by many shifts Has stayed the hand of the enemy, who crieth Thy world is not destroyed, thy good shall live: Thou hast more power for good than Zeus for ill, More courage, justice, more abundant art, More love, more joy, more reason: though around thee Rank-rooting evil bloom with poisonous crown, 500 Though wan and dolorous and crooked things Have made their home with thee, thy good shall live. Know thy desire: and know that if thou seek it, And seek, and seek, and fear not, thou shall find.
