First, like the brute, obliged by facts to learn, Next, as man may, obliged by his own mind, Bent, habit, nature, knowledge turned to law. God’s gift was that man should conceive of truth, {605} And yearn to gain it, catching at mistake, As midway help till he reach fact indeed. The statuary ere he mould a shape Boasts a like gift, the shape’s idea, and next The aspiration to produce the same; {610} So, taking clay, he calls his shape thereout, Cries ever ‘Now I have the thing I see’: Yet all the while goes changing what was wrought, From falsehood like the truth, to truth itself. How were it had he cried ‘I see no face, {615} No breast, no feet i’ the ineffectual clay?’ Rather commend him that he clapped his hands, And laughed, ‘It is my shape and lives again!’ Enjoyed the falsehood, touched it on to truth, Until yourselves applaud the flesh indeed {620} In what is still flesh-imitating clay. Right in you, right in him, such way be man’s! God only makes the live shape at a jet. Will ye renounce this pact of creatureship? The pattern on the Mount subsists no more, {625} Seemed awhile, then returned to nothingness; But copies, Moses strove to make thereby, Serve still and are replaced as time requires: By these, make newest vessels, reach the type! If ye demur, this judgment on your head, {630} Never to reach the ultimate, angels’ law, Indulging every instinct of the soul There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing! “Such is the burthen of the latest time. I have survived to hear it with my ears, {635} Answer it with my lips: does this suffice? For if there be a further woe than such, Wherein my brothers struggling need a hand, So long as any pulse is left in mine, May I be absent even longer yet, {640} Plucking the blind ones back from the abyss, Though I should tarry a new hundred years!” But he was dead: ‘twas about noon, the day Somewhat declining: we five buried him That eve, and then, dividing, went five ways, {645} And I, disguised, returned to Ephesus.