To hold the thought it holds to man,
And calm the spirit to the hour;

And first and foremost has the power All nature's work to seek and scan.

An idle loiterer from the track
O'ercrowded by the sons of men,

I hold their reason nought; shall then The voice of scorning bring me back?

II.

DARK Science holds her truths in state,
And suffers not the untaught throng
To bend their way her groves among,
Or her deep things to emulate.

But that which makes a nation great,

And spreads her roots in lengthened days, That bids defiance to the waves,

Which with the lightning seem to mate;

To cleave and scatter all that stands,
To shake the basement of a throne,
To claim confusion as their own,
And leave all shifting as the sands:

No longer sought in bygone time,
A problem to perplex the wise;
To each man's ken it open lies,

A height to which each one can climb.

And each shall hold their selfish part, And level to the scrambling crew

A nation's pride, upheld by few, And sink the nation in the mart.

III.

Is Mammon then the god of peace?
That we to him ourselves intrust,

And raise the idol from the dust,
And hold from him our land's increase;

And deem that no rude hand will break
The flimsy net we weave the while;
That we our riches high may pile,
And the world's wealth our own may make;

And call the nations of the earth

To worship at our idol's throne,

And think we hold them as our own,

Our own for e'er in peaceful mirth.

We do but tempt the envious eye,
And canker yet the heart of fire;
Upstirring still the slumb'ring ire,
And hostile thoughts that deeper lie.

Go, raise aloft the cumbrous mass,
And fashion's gewgaws heap on high;

And into nature's secrets pry,
Until fair nature's bounds ye pass.

All well, but yet no peace is there,
'Tis but the unreason of the crowd,
All erring still, as wrong, as loud,
Though crowned and mitred head be there.