OF TRUTH IN THINGS FALSE. ERROR is a hardy plant; it flourisheth in every soil; In the heart of the wise and good, alike with the wicked and foolish; And the prudent, perceiving an advantage, is content to overlook the harm And those who thirst for independence, are suffered to drink of disappoint ment. Wherefore? -to prove and humble them; and to teach the idolaters of truth, That it is but the ladder unto Him, on whom only they should trust. THERE is truth in the wildest scheme that imaginative heat hath engen dered, And a man may gather somewhat from the crudest theories of fancy: The alchemist laboureth in folly, but catcheth chance gleams of wisdom. And findeth out many inventions, though his crucible breed not gold; The sinner, toying with witchcraft, thinketh to delude his fellows, 13 But there be very spirits of evil, and what if they come at his bidding? He is a bold bad man who dareth to tamper with the dead; For their whereabout lieth in a mystery-that vestibule leading to Eternity, The waiting-room for unclad ghosts, before the presence-chamber of their King: Mind may act upon mind, though bodies be far divided; For the life is in the blood, but souls communicate unseen: And the heat of an excited intellect, radiating to its fellows, Doth kindle dry leaves afar off, while the green wood around it is unwarmed. The dog may have a spirit, as well as his brutal master; A spirit to live in happiness; for why should he be robbed of his existence? Hath he not a conscience of evil, a glimmer of moral sense, Love and hatred, courage and fear, and visible shame and pride? For comely are the apples that spring from the Dead Sea's cursed shore: But within are they dust and ashes, and the hand that plucketh them shall rue it. A frequent similar effect argueth a constant cause: Yet who hath counted the links that bind an omen to its issue? Who hath expounded the law that rendereth calamities gregarious, Who knoweth wherefore a monsoon should swell the sails of the prosper ous, Blithely speeding on their course the children of good luck? Who hath companioned a vision from the horn or ivory gate, (") Or met another's mind in his, and explained its presence? There is a secret somewhat in antipathies; and love is more than fancy; Yea, and a palpable notice warneth of an instant danger; For the soul hath its feelers, cobwebs floating on the wind, That catch events in their approach with sure and apt presentiment, So that some halo of attraction heraldeth a coming friend. Investing in his likeness the stranger that passed on before; And while the word is in thy mouth, behold thy word fulfilled, O man, little hast thou learnt of truth in things most true, How therefore shall thy blindness wot of truth in things most false? How then canst thou define the subtle sympathies of mind? For the spirit, sharpest and strongest when disease hath rent the body, Hath welcomed kindred spirits in nightly visitations, Or learnt from restless ghosts dark secrets of the living, And helped slow justice to her prey by the dreadful teaching of a dream VERILY, there is nothing so true, that the damps of error have not warp ed it; Verily, there is nothing so false, that a sparkle of truth is not in it. He destroyeth, but cannot build; for he is not antagonist deity : Seek not further, O man, to solve the dark riddle of sin; Suffice it, that thine own bad heart is to thee thine origin of evil. OF ANTICIPATION. THOU hast seen many sorrows, travel-stained pilgrim of the world, head, Yet ills that never happened, have chiefly made thee wretched. The sting of pain and the edge of pleasure are blunted by long expectation, But to the timid heart, to the child of unbelief and dread, That leaneth on his own weak staff, and trusteth the sight of his eyes, The evil he feared shall come, for the soil is ready for the seed, And suspicion hath coldly put aside the hand that was ready to help him, Therefore look up, sad spirit; be strong, thou coward heart, Or fear will make thee wretched, though evil follow not behind: Cease to anticipate misfortune,—there are still many chances of escape; Unless its infirmity turn traitor, and Fear unbar the gates. The valiant standeth as a rock, and the billows break upon him; Yet oftentimes is evil but a braggart, that provoketh and will not fight; Or perchance a blessing in a masque, sent to try thy trust, The precious smiting of a friend, whose frowns are all in love: Often the storm threateneth, but is driven to other climes, And the weak hath quailed in fear, while the firm hath been glad in his confidence. |