Is, then, all arguing frivolous or absurd? Was Socrates himself not sometimes heard To hold an argument amidst a feast? E'en naked in the bath he hardly ceased. Was this a failing in his mental vision? Genius is sure discovered by collision; The cold hard flint by one quick blow is fired;-- Fit emblem of the close and the retired, Who, in the keen dispute struck o'er and o'er, Acquire a sudden warmth unfelt before. All this, I grant, is good. But mark the ill: Men by disputing have grown blinder still. The crooked mind is like the squinting eye: How can you make it see _itself_ awry? Who's in the wrong? Will any answer "I"? Our words, our efforts, are an idle breath; Each hugs his darling notion until death; Opinions ne'er are altered; all we do Is, _to arouse conflicting passions, too_. Not truth itself should always find a tongue; "To be too stanchly right, is to be wrong." * * * * * In earlier days, by vice and crime unstained, Justice and Truth, two naked sisters, reigned; But long since fled--as every one can tell-- Justice to heaven and Truth into a well. Now vain Opinion governs every age, And fills poor mortals with fantastic rage. Her airy temple floats upon the clouds; Gods, demons, antic sprites, in countless crowds, Around her throne--a strange and motley mask-- Ply busily their never-ceasing task, To hold up to mankind's admiring gaze A thousand nothings in a thousand ways; While, wafted on by all the winds that blow, Away the temple and the goddess go. A mortal, as her course uncertain turns, To-day is worshipped, and to-morrow burns. We scoff, that young Antinous once had priests; We think our ancestors were worse than beasts; And he who treats each modern custom ill, Does but what future ages surely will. What female face has Venus smiled upon? The Frenchman turns with rapture to Brionne, Nor can believe that men were wont to bow To golden tresses and a narrow brow. And thus is vagabond Opinion seen To sway o'er Beauty--this world's other queen! How can we hope, then, that she e'er will quit Her vapory throne, to seek some sage's feet, And Truth from her deep hiding-place remove, Once more to witness what is done above?