And _Virtue_--it is no empty sound; That a man can obey her, no folly; Even if he stumble all over the ground He yet can follow the Holy; And what never wisdom of wise man knew A child-like spirit can simply do.

And a _G.o.d_ there is--a steadfast Will, However the human shrinketh!

High over s.p.a.ce and time He still, The live Thought, doth what He thinketh; And though all things keep circling, to change confined, He keeps, in all changes, a changeless mind.

These three words cherish--of meaning full: From mouth to mouth send them faring; For, although they spring from no sect or school, Your hearts them witness are bearing; And man is never of worth bereft While yet he has faith in those three words left.

Three words there are of weighty sound, And from good men's lips they hail us; But a tinkling cymbal, a drum's rebound, For help or for comfort they fail us!

His Life's fruit away he forfeit flings Who catches after those shadows of things;

Who still believes in a Golden Age, Where the Right and the Good reign in splendour: The Right and the Good war ever must wage-- Their foe will never surrender; And chok'st thou him not in the upper air, His strength he will still on the earth repair.

Who yet believes that Fortune, the jilt, To the n.o.ble will bind herself ever: Her love-looks follow the man of guilt; The world to the good belongs never; He is in it a stranger; he wanders away Seeking a house that will not decay.

Who still believes that no human gaze Truth ever her visage discloses: Her veil no mortal hand shall raise; Man only thinks and supposes: Thou mayst prison the spirit in sounding form, But the Fetterless walks away on the storm.

Then, n.o.ble spirit, from folly break free, This heav'nly faith holding and handing: What the ear never heard, what no eye can see, Is the lovely, the true, notwithstanding; Outside, the fool seeks for it evermore; The wise man finds it with closed door!

THE METAPHYSICIAN.

"How far the world lies under me!

Scarce can I see the men below there crawling!

How high it bears me up, my lofty calling!

How near the heavenly canopy!"

Thus, from tower-roof where he doth clamber, Calls out the slater; and with him the small big man, Jack Metaphysicus, down in his writing-chamber!

Tell me, thou little great big man,-- The tower, whence thou so grandly all things hast inspected, Of what is it?--Whereon is it erected?

How cam'st thou up thyself? Its heights so smooth and bare-- How serve they thee but thence into the vale to stare?

_THE PHILOSOPHERS_.

The principle whence everything To life and shape ascended-- The pulley whereon Zeus the ring Of Earth, which else in sherds would spring, Has carefully suspended-- To genius I yield him a claim Who fathoms for me what its name, Save I withdraw its curtain: It is--ten is not thirteen.

That snow makes cold, that fire burns, That man on two feet goeth, That in the heavens the sun sojourns-- This much the man who logic spurns Through his own senses knoweth; But metaphysics who has got, Knows he that burneth, freezeth not; Knows 'tis the moist that wetteth, And 'tis the rough that fretteth.

Great Homer sings his epic high; The hero fronts his dangers; The brave his duty still doth ply-- And did it while, I won't deny, Philosophers were strangers: But grant by heart and brain achiev'd What Locke and Des Cartes ne'er conceiv'd-- By them yet, as behoved, It possible was proved.

Strength for the Right is counted still; Bold laughs the strong hyena; Who rule not, servants' parts must fill; It goes quite tolerably ill Upon this world's arena; But how it would be, if the plan Of the universe now first began, In many a moral system All men may read who list 'em.

"Man needs with man must linked be To reach the goal of growing; In the whole only worketh he; Many drops go to make the sea; Much water sets mills going.

Then with the wild wolves do not stand, But knit the state's enduring band:"

From doctor's chair thus, tranquil, Herr Pufendorf and swan-quill.

But since to all, what doctors say Flies not as soon as spoken, Nature will use her mother-way, See that her chain fly not in tway, The circle be not broken: Meantime, until the world's great round Philosophy in one hath bound, She keeps it on the move, sir, By hunger and by love, sir.

_SAYINGS OF CONFUCIUS_.

I.

Threefold is of Time the tread: Lingering comes the Future pacing hither; Dartlike is the Now gone thither; Stands the Past aye moveless, foot and head.

No impatience wings its idle Tread of leisurely delay; Fear or doubt it cannot bridle Should it headlong run away; No remorse, no incantation Moves the standing from its station.

Wouldst thou end thy earthly journey Wise and of good fortune full, Make the Lingering thine attorney Thee to counsel--not thy tool; Not for friend the Flying take, Nor thy foe the Standing make.

II.

Threefold is of s.p.a.ce the way: On unresting, without stay, Strives the Length into the distance; Ceaseless pours the Breadth's insistence Bottomless the Depth goes down.

For a sign the three are sent thee: _Onward_ must alone content thee-- Weary, thou must not stand still Wouldst thou thy perfection fill!

Thou must spread thee wider, bigger, Wouldst thou have the world take figure!

To the deep the man descendeth Who existence comprehendeth.

Leads persistence to the goal; Leads abundance to precision; Dwells in the abyss the Vision.

_In the following epigrams I have altered the form, which in the original is the elegiac distich_.

_KNOWLEDGE_.

To this man, 'tis a G.o.ddess tall, Who lifts a star-encircled head; To that, a fine cow in a stall, Which gives him b.u.t.ter to his bread.

_MY FAITH_.

Which religion I profess?

None of which you mention make.

Wherefore so?--And can't you guess?

For Religion's sake.

_FRIEND AND FOE_.

Dear is my friend, but my foe too Is friendly to my good; My friend the thing shows I _can_ do, My foe, the thing I should.

_EXPECTATION AND FULFILMENT_.

Thousand-masted, mighty float, Out to sea Youth's navy goes: Silent, in his one saved boat, Age into the harbour rows.

_THE DIVER_