 | Collected poems of Samuel Davies : 1723-1761 |  |
IV. I said, I will be wise: but it was far from me.
How rough, how steep, and intricate the Way
To Knowledge, and the Worlds of mental Day!
How thick the Gloom, how dark the dismal Night
That stops the Dawn of Intellectual Light!
Thro' what vast Labyrinths my Feet must rove,
Ere I obtain the shining Pearl I love!
At first it seems at Hand, just in Embrace;
And thus allures me to the endless Chace:
But as I run, new Wonders strike my Eyes;
“Hills peep o'er Hills, and Alps on Alps arise.”
As Knowledge, so new Objects still increase;
The more I know, I seem to know the less.
One Thing presents another quite unknown;
A third starts up in View, ere that be gone;
'Till endless Crowds in long Succession rise,
And spread Amazement o'er my gazing Eyes.
So the etherial Bow, of various Dye,
Immensely distant, shews its Colours nigh:
The witless Trav'ler, fond of nearer Views,
With fruitless Steps th' illusive Shade pursues.
'Till tir'd, bewilder'd, hopeless of his Aim,
He rests, and blushes with ignoble Shame.
To Knowledge, and the Worlds of mental Day!
How thick the Gloom, how dark the dismal Night
That stops the Dawn of Intellectual Light!
Thro' what vast Labyrinths my Feet must rove,
Ere I obtain the shining Pearl I love!
At first it seems at Hand, just in Embrace;
And thus allures me to the endless Chace:
But as I run, new Wonders strike my Eyes;
“Hills peep o'er Hills, and Alps on Alps arise.”
21
The more I know, I seem to know the less.
One Thing presents another quite unknown;
A third starts up in View, ere that be gone;
'Till endless Crowds in long Succession rise,
And spread Amazement o'er my gazing Eyes.
So the etherial Bow, of various Dye,
Immensely distant, shews its Colours nigh:
The witless Trav'ler, fond of nearer Views,
With fruitless Steps th' illusive Shade pursues.
'Till tir'd, bewilder'd, hopeless of his Aim,
He rests, and blushes with ignoble Shame.
While one Idea dances in my Brain,
Another rising drives it out again.
I loose the Treasures of Conceptions past:
The Gain is lost, but studious Labours last.
So while on Sand a Man his Foot-steps guides,
One Foot makes Way, the other backward slides.
Another rising drives it out again.
I loose the Treasures of Conceptions past:
The Gain is lost, but studious Labours last.
So while on Sand a Man his Foot-steps guides,
One Foot makes Way, the other backward slides.
Wasted in fruitless Toils, thus pass my Hours;
And sacred Truth o'ercomes these feeble Pow'rs.
Long last the Glooms of native Ignorance,
And by slow Steps to Knowledge we advance.
But this dark State will not forever last,
This Infancy of Being soon is past:
The Soul matur'd, and freed from cumbrous Clay,
Shall then rejoice in everlasting Day:
Serene employ her elevated Pow'rs
On Truths too dazzling for this World of ours.
And sacred Truth o'ercomes these feeble Pow'rs.
Long last the Glooms of native Ignorance,
And by slow Steps to Knowledge we advance.
But this dark State will not forever last,
This Infancy of Being soon is past:
The Soul matur'd, and freed from cumbrous Clay,
Shall then rejoice in everlasting Day:
Serene employ her elevated Pow'rs
On Truths too dazzling for this World of ours.
If Darkness, then, must still surround my Head
'Till heav'nly Light succeed to Death's dark Shade;
Be it my Study and my constant Care
For that important Moment to prepare,
Lest then, secluded from the Realms of Light,
I sink forever in more dismal Night.
O may the Sun of Righteousness arise,
On a bewilder'd Wretch! Then shall my Eyes
Discern the happy Path that leads to Bliss,
Where perfect Knowledge, and where Jesus is.
'Till heav'nly Light succeed to Death's dark Shade;
Be it my Study and my constant Care
For that important Moment to prepare,
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I sink forever in more dismal Night.
O may the Sun of Righteousness arise,
On a bewilder'd Wretch! Then shall my Eyes
Discern the happy Path that leads to Bliss,
Where perfect Knowledge, and where Jesus is.
| Collected poems of Samuel Davies : 1723-1761 | |