WHEN royal Truth, released from mortal throes, Burst His brief slumber, and triumphant rose, Ill had the Holiest sued A patron multitude, Or courted Tetrarch's eye, or claim'd to rule By the world's winning grace, or proofs from learned school. But, robing Him in viewless air, He told His secret to a few of meanest mould; They in their turn imparted The gift to men pure-hearted, While the brute many heard His mysteries high, As some strange fearful tongue, and crouch'd, they knew not why. Still is the might of Truth, as it has been: Lodged in the few, obey'd, and yet unseen. Rear'd on lone heights, and rare, His saints their watch-flame bear, And the mad world sees the wide-circling blaze, Vain searching whence it streams, and how to quench its rays. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A THOUGHT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE NYMPH COMPLAINING FOR THE DEATH OF HER FAUN [OR, FAWN] by ANDREW MARVELL TO MR. THOMAS SOUTHERNE, ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 1742 by ALEXANDER POPE MARSH MUSIC by KENNETH SLADE ALLING A STREET MOTHER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TELL ME by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: THE NOVEL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |