Poems (Cook)/Fragment
FRAGMENT.
Man, Man, thou art too vain! Look round, and seeMountain o'er mountain rising, till thine eyeFails to observe the ether-circled tops,Whose every atom is a work of mightAnd mystery as complex as thyself.Gaze on the flood of waters rolling onIn strength and freshness. Billow after billowSpreading in sudden fury to contendWith wind and cloud, or, hush'd in glassy rest,Scarce ripples loud enough against the ship,To lull the drowsy sea-boy to his sleep. Is there a bubble of the foamy spray—Is there one drop of the great briny worldThat is not like thyself—a miracle?The throb that marks the current of thy blood,With constant and unerring beat, is notMore curious or regular in courseThan the vast tides that form the ocean's pulse.Cast thy proud glance upon the concave spanWhere suns shine out with pure, eternal light,And starry myriads dwell in endless space;Where Godhead flings such flashing lustre round,That Reason shrinks before the blinding ray;While Knowledge gazes with an idiot stareUpon the illumined scroll, and owns 'tis tracedIn characters it cannot comprehend.Watch the mute creatures that obey thy nod—The steed that bears thee, and the hound that follows,—There shalt thou meet an Instinct, hedging closeUpon thy vaunted attribute of Mind:An Instinct so allied to human witThat pale Reflection knows not where to setThe delicate boundary of soul and sense,But wonders at the brute-embodied spiritThat often mocks the claim of baser Man,And shames him in his high supremacy.Philosophy and Science, stand ye forth,—Array your crucibles of magic flame,Unroll your parchments of long-gather'd lore;"And see if ye can shape with chemie craftA blade of grass, or tell us where the windGoeth or listeth. Man, thou art too vain!Exert thy cunning brain and dextrous handWith all the daring energy and skillThat mortal loves to boast; yet wilt thou findThe particle of dust thou tramplest on,Too much for thy weak power to analyze.