Alaric at Rome; And Other Poems (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text, images, or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1896. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... And feign kind Gods who perfect what man vainly tries. Look, the world tempts our eye, And we would know it all. We map the starry sky, We mind this earthen ball, We measure the sea-tides, we number the sea-sands: We scrutinize the dates Of long-past human things, The bounds of effac'd states, The lines of deceas'd kings: We search out dead men's words, and works of dead men's hands: We shut our eyes, and muse How our own minds are made; What springs of thought they use, How righten'd, how betray'd; And spend our wit to name what most employ unnam'd: But still, as we proceed, The mass swells more and more Of volumes yet to read, Of secrets yet to explore. Our hair grows grey, our eyes are dimm'd, our heat is tam'd-- We rest our faculties, And thus address the Gods: -- "True Science if there is, It stays in your abodes. Man's measures cannot span the illimitable All: "You only can take in The world's immense design. Our desperate search was sin, Which henceforth we resign: Sure only that your mind sees all things which befall." Fools that in man's brief term He cannot all things view, Affords no ground to affirm That there are Gods who do: Nor does being weary prove that he has where to rest. Again: our youthful blood Claims rapture as its right. The world, a rolling flood Of newness and delight, Draws in the enamour'd gazer to its shining breast; Pleasure to our hot grasp Gives flowers after flowers; With passionate warmth we clasp Hand after hand in ours: Nor do we soon perceive how fast our youth is spent. At once our eyes grow clear: We see in blank dismay Year posting after year, Sense after sense decay; Our shivering heart is min'd by secret discontent: Yet still, in spite of truth, In spite of hopes entomb'd That longing of our youth Burns ever u...