384 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE
Methinks thou sayest, " Restrain thy speech ;
The bard was ever but a fool ! Thy dull philosophy go teach
To them that throng the sage's school ! " If such thy thought, my task is done ; For sage and perfect bard are one.
��But, if the spirit pricks thee still, And to go farther thou hast heart,
Then add to Wisdom's higher skill The special secrets of thine art ;
For without these an angel's speech
Must fail the loftiest strains to reach.
Teach the truth clearly, not like them
That wrap the thought in wordy cloud Fear rather lest the wise condemn,
Than court the clamors of the crowd- That he who runs can read thy sense. Deem thou thy greatest excellence.
Yet think not truth, or sense alone, Will satisfy the tasteful mind ;
The varying notes with truthful tone Must in rich harmony be joined,
Till in such lofty strains they roll
As charm the ear, and chain the soul.
Thy skill must blend the sense and sound In a sweet concord, chaste, severe,
Till poesy from earthly ground Mounts to a more celestial sphere.
And less like mortal language seems
Than music from the land of dreams.
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