KNOWLEDGE
:
AN
ODE
.
BY
THE
SAME
.
Ducit
in
èrrorem
variarum
ambage
viarum
.
OVID
.
HIGH
on
a
hill's
green
bosom
laid
,
At
ease
my
careless
Fancy
stray'd
,
And
o'er
the
landskip
ran
;
Review'd
what
scenes
the
seasons
show
,
And
weigh'd
what
share
of
joy
and
woe
Is
doom'd
to
toiling
Man
.
The
nibbling
flocks
around
me
bleat
,
The
oxen
low
beneath
my
feet
Along
the
clover'd
dale
;
The
golden
sheaves
the
reapers
bind
,
The
ploughman
whistles
near
behind
,
And
breaks
the
new-mown
vale
.
"
Hail
,
Knowledge
,
gift
of
heaven
!
I
cried
;
"
E'en
all
the
gifts
of
heaven
beside
,
"
Compar'd
to
thee
,
how
low
!
"
The
blessings
of
the
earth
and
air
"
The
beasts
of
fold
and
forest
share
,
"
But
godlike
Beings
KNOW
.
"
How
mean
the
short-liv'd
joys
of
Sense
!
"
But
how
sublime
the
excellence
"
Of
Wisdom's
sacred
lore
!
"
In
Death's
deep
shades
what
nations
lie
!
"
Yet
still
can
Wisdom's
piercing
eye
"
Their
mighty
deeds
explore
.
"
She
sees
the
little
Spartan
band
,
"
With
great
Leonidas
,
withstand
"
The
Asian
world
in
arms
;
"
She
hears
the
heavenly
sounds
that
hung
"
On
Homer's
and
on
Plato's
tongue
,
"
And
glows
at
Tully's
charms
.
"
The
wonders
of
the
spacious
sky
"
She
penetrates
with
Newton's
eye
,
"
And
marks
the
planets
roll
;
"
The
human
mind
with
Locke
she
scans
;
"
With
Cambray
Virtue's
flame
she
fans
,
"
And
lifts
to
heaven
the
soul
.
"
How
matter
takes
ten
thousand
forms
"
Of
metals
,
plants
,
of
men
and
worms
,
"
She
joys
to
trace
with
Boyle
:
"
This
life
she
deems
an
infant
state
,
"
A
gleam
that
bodes
a
light
complete
,
"
When
done
the
mortal
toil
.
"
What
numerous
ills
in
life
befal
!
"
Yet
Wisdom
learns
to
scorn
them
all
,
"
And
arms
the
breast
with
steel
:
"
E'en
Death's
pale
face
no
horror
wears
;
"
But
,
ah
,
what
horrid
pangs
and
fears
"
Unknowing
wretches
feel
!
"
That
breast
excels
proud
Ophir's
mines
,
"
And
fairer
than
the
morning
shines
,
"
Where
Wisdom's
treasures
glow
;
"
But
,
ah
,
how
void
yon
peasant's
mind
!
"
His
thoughts
how
darken'd
and
confin'd
!
"
Nor
cares
he
more
to
know
.
"
The
last
two
tenants
of
the
ground
,
"
Of
antient
times
his
history
bound
:
"
Alas
,
it
scarce
goes
higher
.
"
In
vain
to
him
is
Maro's
strain
,
"
And
Shakespeare's
magic
powers
in
vain
,
"
In
vain
is
Milton's
fire
.
"
Nor
sun
by
day
,
nor
stars
by
night
,
"
Can
give
his
soul
the
grand
delight
"
To
trace
almighty
power
:
"
His
team
think
just
as
much
as
he
"
Of
Nature's
vast
variety
"
In
animal
and
flower
.
"
As
thus
I
sung
,
a
solemn
sound
Accosts
mine
ear
;
I
look'd
around
,
And
,
lo
,
an
antient
Sage
,
Hard
by
an
ivied
oak
,
stood
near
,
That
fenc'd
the
cave
,
where
many
a
year
Had
been
his
hermitage
.
His
mantle
grey
flow'd
loose
behind
,
His
snowy
beard
wav'd
to
the
wind
,
And
added
solemn
grace
;
His
broad
bald
front
gave
dignity
,
Attention
mark'd
his
lively
eye
,
And
peace
smil'd
in
his
face
.
He
beckon'd
with
his
wrinkled
hand
,
My
ear
was
all
at
his
command
;
And
thus
the
Sage
began
:
"
Godlike
it
is
to
know
,
I
own
,
"
But
,
oh
,
how
little
can
be
known
"
By
poor
short-sighted
man
!
"
Go
mark
the
Schools
,
where
letter'd
Pride
,
"
And
star-crown'd
Science
,
boastful
guide
,
"
Display
their
fairest
light
:
"
There
led
by
some
pale
meteor's
ray
,
"
That
leaves
them
oft
,
the
Sages
stray
,
"
And
grope
in
endless
night
.
"
Of
Wisdom
proud
,
yon
Sage
exclaims
,
"
Virtue
and
Vice
are
merely
names
,
"
And
changing
every
hour
;
"
Ashley
,
how
loud
in
Virtue's
praise
!
"
Yet
Ashley
with
a
kiss
betrays
"
And
strips
her
of
her
dower
.
"
Hark
,
Bolingbroke
his
God
arraigns
;
"
Hobbs
smiles
on
Vice
,
Descartes
maintains
:
"
A
godless
passive
cause
;
"
See
,
Bayle
,
oft
slily
shifting
round
,
"
Would
fondly
fix
on
sceptic
ground
,
"
And
wrest
th'
eternal
laws
.
"
And
what
the
joy
this
lore
bestows
?
"
Alas
,
no
joy
,
no
hope
it
knows
"
Above
what
Brutes
may
claim
:
"
To
quench
our
noblest
native
fire
,
"
That
bids
to
nobler
worlds
aspire
,
"
Is
all
its
hope
,
its
aim
.
"
Not
Afric's
wilds
,
nor
Babel's
waste
,
"
Where
Ignorance
her
tents
hath
plac'd
,
"
More
dismal
scene
display
:
"
A
scene
,
where
Virtue
sickening
dies
,
"
Where
Vice
to
dark
extinction
flies
,
"
And
scorns
the
future
day
.
"
Wisdom
you
boast
to
you
is
given
:
"
At
night
then
mark
the
fires
of
heaven
,
"
And
let
thy
mind
explore
;
"
Swift
as
the
lightning
let
it
fly
"
From
star
to
star
,
from
sky
to
sky
,
"
Still
,
still
are
millions
more
.
"
Th'
immense
ideas
strike
the
soul
"
With
pleasing
horror
,
and
controul
"
Thy
Wisdom's
empty
boast
.
"
What
are
they
?
—
Thou
canst
never
say
:
"
Then
silent
adoration
pay
,
"
And
be
in
wonder
lost
.
"
Say
,
how
the
self-same
roots
produce
"
The
wholesome
food
,
and
poisonous
juice
,
"
And
adders
balsams
yield
:
"
How
fierce
the
lurking
tyger
glares
,
"
How
mild
the
heifer
with
thee
shares
"
The
labours
of
the
field
?
"
Why
growling
to
his
den
retires
"
The
sullen
pard
,
while
joy
inspires
"
Yon
happy
sportive
lambs
?
"
Now
scatter'd
o'er
the
hill
they
stray
,
"
Now
,
weary
of
their
gambling
play
,
"
All
single
out
their
dams
.
"
Instinct
directs
—
But
what
is
That
?
"
Fond
man
,
thou
never
canst
say
What
:
"
Far
short
thy
searches
fall
.
"
By
stumbling
chance
,
and
slow
degrees
,
"
The
useful
arts
of
men
increase
,
"
But
this
at
once
is
all
.
"
A
trunk
first
floats
along
the
deep
,
"
Long
ages
still
improve
the
ship
,
"
Till
she
commands
the
shore
:
"
But
never
bird
improv'd
her
nest
,
"
Each
all
at
once
of
powers
possest
,
"
Which
ne'er
can
rise
to
more
.
"
That
down
the
steep
the
waters
flow
,
"
That
weight
descends
we
see
,
and
know
;
"
But
why
,
can
ne'er
explain
.
"
Then
humbly
weighing
Nature's
laws
,
"
To
God's
high
will
ascribe
the
cause
,
"
And
own
thy
wisdom
vain
.
"
For
still
the
more
thou
knowest
,
the
more
"
Shalt
thou
the
vanity
deplore
"
Of
all
thy
soul
can
find
:
"
This
life
a
sickly
woful
dream
,
"
A
burial
of
the
soul
will
seem
,
"
A
palsy
of
the
mind
.
"
Tho'
Knowledge
scorns
the
peasant's
fear
,
"
Alas
,
it
points
the
secret
spear
"
Of
many
a
nameless
woe
:
"
Thy
delicacy
dips
the
dart
"
In
rankling
gall
,
and
gives
a
smart
"
Beyond
what
he
can
know
.
"
How
happy
then
the
simple
mind
"
Of
yon
unknowing
labouring
hind
,
"
Where
all
is
smiling
peace
!
"
No
thoughts
of
more
exalted
joy
"
His
present
bliss
one
hour
destroy
,
"
Nor
rob
one
moment's
ease
.
"
The
stings
neglected
Merit
feels
,
"
The
pangs
the
virtuous
soul
conceals
,
"
When
crush'd
by
wayward
fate
;
"
These
are
not
found
below
his
roof
,
"
Against
them
all
securely
proof
,
"
Heaven
guards
his
humble
state
.
"
Knowledge
or
wealth
to
few
are
given
;
"
But
,
mark
how
just
the
ways
of
heaven
!
"
True
joy
to
all
is
free
:
"
Nor
Wealth
nor
Knowledge
grant
the
boon
,
"
'Tis
thine
,
O
Virtue
,
thine
alone
,
"
It
all
belongs
to
thee
,
"
With
thee
—
how
blest
the
Shepherd
lives
!
"
Gay
is
his
morn
,
his
evening
gives
"
Content
and
sweet
repose
.
"
Without
thee
—
ever
,
ever
cloy'd
,
"
To
sage
,
or
chief
,
one
weary
void
"
Is
all
that
life
bestows
.
"
Then
wouldst
thou
,
Mortal
,
rise
divine
?
"
Let
innocence
of
soul
be
thine
,
"
With
active
goodness
join'd
:
"
Thy
heart
shall
then
confess
thee
blest
,
"
And
,
ever
lively
,
joyful
taste
"
The
pleasures
of
the
mind
.
"
So
spake
the
Sage
:
my
heart
reply'd
,
"
How
poor
,
how
blind
is
human
pride
!
"
All
joy
how
false
and
vain
,
"
But
that
from
Conscious
Worth
which
flows
,
"
Which
triumphs
in
the
midst
of
woes
,
"
And
boasts
an
endless
reign
.
"