1. SOme blind themselves, 'cause possibly they may Be led by others a right way; They build on Sands, which if unmoved they find, 'Tis but because there was no Wind. Less hard 'tis, not to Erre our selves, then know If our Fore-fathers err'd or no. When we trust Men concerning God, we then Trust not God concerning Men. 2. Visions, and Inspirations some expect, Their course here to direct. Like senseless Chymists their own wealth destroy, Imaginary Gold t' enjoy. So Stars appear to drop to us from skie, And gild the passage as they fly: But when they fall, and meet th' opposing Ground, What but a sordid Slime is found? 3. Sometimes their Fancies they 'bove Reason set, And Fast, that they may Dream of Meat. Sometimes Ill Spirits their sickly souls delude, And Bastard-Forms obtrude. So Endor's wretched Sorceress, although She Saul through his disguise did know, Yet when the Devil comes up disguis'd, she cries, Behold, the Gods arise. 4. In vain, alas, these outward Hopes are try'd; Reason within's our onely Guide. Reason, which (God be prais'd!) still Walks, for all Its old Original Fall. And since it self the boundless Godhead joyn'd With a Reasonable Mind, It plainly shews that Mysteries Divine May with our Reason joyn. 5. The Holy Book, like the Eighth Sphere, does shine With thousand Lights of Truth Divine. So numberless the Stars, that to the Eye It makes but all one Galaxie. Yet Reason must assist too, for in Seas So vast and dangerous as these, Our course by Stars above we cannot know, Without the Compass too below. 6. Though Reason cannot through Faith's Myst'ries see It sees that There and such they bee; Leads to Heaven's-door, and there does humbly keep, And there through Chinks and Key-holes peep. Though it, like Moses, by a sad command Must not come into th' Holy Land. Yet thither it infallibly does Guid, And from afar 'tis all Descryed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...L.E.L.'S LAST QUESTION by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ELEGY ON THYRZA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON FOURTH BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 7. CHERRY RIPE by THOMAS CAMPION MOST LOVELY SHADE; FOR ALICE BOUVERIE by EDITH SITWELL A FAERY SONG, SUNG BY THE PEOPLE OF FAERY OVER DIARMUID by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |