From liberal Arts to the litigious Law, Obedience, not ambition, did me draw; 100 I look'd at awful quoif and scarlet gown Through others' optics, not my own: Untie the Gordian knot that will, I see no rhetoric at all In them that learnedly can brawl, And fill with mercenary breath the spacious hall; Let me be peaceable, let me be still. The solitary Tishbite heard the wind, With strength and violence combin'd, That rent the mountains, and did make 110 The solid Earth's foundations shake; He saw the dreadful fire, and heard the horrid noise, But found what he expected in the _small still voice_. VII. Nor here did my unbridled fancy rest, But I must try A pitch more high, To read the starry language of the East; And with Chaldean curiosity Presum'd to solve the riddles of the sky; Impatient till I knew my doom, 120 Dejected till the good direction come, I ripp'd up Fate's forbidden womb, Nor would I stay till it brought forth An easy and a natural birth, But was solicitous to know The yet misshapen embryo (Preposterous crime!) Without the formal midwif'ry of time: Fond man, as if too little grief were given On Earth, draws down inquietudes from Heaven! 130 Permits himself with fear to be unmann'd, Belshazzar-like, grows wan and pale, His very heart begins to fail, Is frighted at that Writing of the Hand, Which yet nor he, nor all his learn'd magicians understand. VIII. And now at last what's the result of all? Should the strict audit come, And for th' account too early call; A num'rous heap of ciphers would be found the total sum. When incompassionate age shall plow 140 The delicate Amira's brow, And draw his furrows deep and long, What hardy youth is he Will after that a reaper be, Or sing the harvest song? And what is verse, but an effeminate vent Either of lust or discontent? Colours will starve, and all their glories die, Invented only to deceive the eye; And he that wily Law does love 150 Much more of serpent has than dove, There's nothing in Astrology, But Delphic ambiguity; We are misguided in the dark, and thus Each star becomes an _Ignis fatuus_: Yet pardon me, ye glorious Lamps of light, 'Twas one of you that led the way, Dispell'd the gloomy night, Became a Phosphor to th' Eternal Day, And show'd the Magi where th' Almighty Infant lay. 160 IX.