An Ode : On Exodus iii. 14
On Exodus iii. 14. 'I am that I am.'
Man! foolish man!
Scarce know'st thou how thyself began,
Scarce hadst thou thought enough to prove thou art,
Yet, steel'd with studied boldness, thou darest try
To send thy doubting Reason's dazzled eye
Through the mysterious gulf of vast immensity;
Much thou canst there discern, much thence impart.
Vain wretch! suppress thy knowing pride,
Mortify thy learned lust:
Vain are thy thoughts while thou thyself art dust.
Let wit her sails, her oars let wisdom lend,
The helm let politic experience guide;
Yet cease to hope thy short-lived bark shall ride
Down spreading Fate's unnavigable tide.
What though still it farther tend?
Still 'tis farther from its end,
And, in the bosom of that boundless sea,
Still finds its error lengthen with its way.
With daring pride and insolent delight,
Your doubts resolved you boast, your labours crown'd,
And, EYPHKA your God, forsooth, is found
Incomprehensible and infinite.
But is he therefore found? vain searcher! no:
Let your imperfect definition show
That nothing you, the weak definer, know.
Say, why should the collected main
Itself within itself contain!
Why to its caverns should it sometimes creep,
And with delighted silence sleep
On the loved bosom of its parent deep.
Why should its numerous waters stay
In comely discipline and fair array,
Till winds and tides exert their high commands!
Then, prompt and ready to obey,
Why do the rising surges spread
Their opening ranks o'er earth's submissive head,
Marching through different paths to different lands?
Why does the constant sun
With measured steps his radiant journeys run?
Why does he order the diurnal hours
To leave earth's other part, and rise in ours?
Why does he wake the correspondent moon,
And fill her willing lamp with liquid light,
Commanding her with delegated powers
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poem by Matthew Prior
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