Poems (Cook)/Fragment

by Eliza Cook

FRAGMENT.

Man, Man, thou art too vain! Look round, and see
Mountain o'er mountain rising, till thine eye
Fails to observe the ether-circled tops,
Whose every atom is a work of might
And mystery as complex as thyself.
Gaze on the flood of waters rolling on
In strength and freshness. Billow after billow
Spreading in sudden fury to contend
With 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 world
That is not like thyself—a miracle?
The throb that marks the current of thy blood,
With constant and unerring beat, is not
More curious or regular in course
Than the vast tides that form the ocean's pulse.
Cast thy proud glance upon the concave span
Where 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 stare
Upon the illumined scroll, and owns 'tis traced
In 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 close
Upon thy vaunted attribute of Mind:
An Instinct so allied to human wit
That pale Reflection knows not where to set
The delicate boundary of soul and sense,
But wonders at the brute-embodied spirit
That 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 craft
A blade of grass, or tell us where the wind
Goeth or listeth. Man, thou art too vain!
Exert thy cunning brain and dextrous hand
With all the daring energy and skill
That mortal loves to boast; yet wilt thou find
The particle of dust thou tramplest on,
Too much for thy weak power to analyze.