Thou grinning skull, what wouldst thou say, Save that thy brain, in chase of truth, like mine, With patient toil pursued its floundering way By glimmering lights that through dim twilight-shine? Ye instruments, in sooth, now laugh at me, With wheel, and cog-wheel, ring, and cylinder; At Nature's door I stood; ye should have been the key, But though your ward be good, the bolt ye cannot stir. Mysterious Nature may not choose To unveil her secrets to the stare of day, And what from the mind's eye she stores away, Thou canst not force from her with levers and with screws. Thou antique gear, why dost thou cumber My chamber with thy useless lumber? My father housed thee on this spot, And I must keep thee, though I need thee not! Thou parchment roll that hast been smoked upon Long as around this desk the sorry lamp-light shone; Much better had I spent my little gear, Than with this little to sit mouldering here; Why should a man possess ancestral treasures, But by possession to enlarge his pleasures? The thing we use not a dead burden lies, But what the moment brings the wise man knows to prize. But what is this? there in the corner; why Does that flask play the magnet to mine eye? And why within me does this strange light shine, As the soft nightly moon through groves of sombre pine? I greet thee, matchless phial; and with devotion I take thee down, and in thy mellow potion I reverence human wit and human skill. Fine essence of the opiate dew of sleep, Dear extract of all subtle powers that kill, Be mine the first-fruits of thy strength to reap! I look on thee, and soothed is my heart's pain; I grasp thee, straight is lulled my racking brain, And wave by wave my soul's flood ebbs away. I see wide ocean's swell invite my wistful eyes, And at my feet her sparkling mirror lies; To brighter shores invites a brighter day. A car of fire comes hovering o'er my head, With gentle wafture; now let me pursue New flight adventurous, through the starry blue, And be my wingèd steps unburdened sped To spheres of uncramped energy divine! And may indeed this life of gods be mine, But now a worm, and cased in mortal clay? Yes! only let strong will high thought obey, To turn thy back on the blest light of day, And open burst the portals which by most With fear, that fain would pass them by, are crossed. Now is the time by deeds, not words, to prove That earth-born man yields not to gods above. Before that gloomy cavern not to tremble, Where all those spectral shapes of dread assemble, Which Fancy, slave of every childish fear, Bids, to the torment of herself, appear; Forward to strive unto that passage dire, Whose narrow mouth seems fenced with hell's collected fire; With glad resolve this leap to make, even though That thing we call our soul should into nothing flow!