Deep is the sea, and deep is hell, but Pride mineth deeper; It is coiled as a poisonous worm about the foundations of the soul. If thou expose it in thy motives, and track it in thy springs of thought, Complacent in its own detection, it will seem indignant virtue; Smoothly will it gratulate thy skill, O subtle anatomist of self, And spurn at its very being, while it nestleth the deeper in thy bosom. Pride is a double traitor, and betrayeth itself to entrap thee, Making thee vain of thy self-knowledge; proud of thy discoveries of Pride. Fruitlessly thou strainest for humility, by darkly diving into self; Rather look away from innate evil, and gaze upon extraneous good: For in sounding the deep things of the heart, thou shalt learn to be vain of its capacities, But in viewing the heights above thee, thou shalt be taught thy littleness: Could an emmet pry into itself, it might marvel at its own anatomy, But let it look on eagles, to discern how mean a thing it is. And all things hang upon comparison; to the greater, great is small: Neither is there anything so vile, but somewhat yet is viler: On all sides is there an infinity: the culprit at the gallows hath his worse, And the virgin martyr at the stake need not look far for a better. Therefore see thou that thine aim reacheth unto higher than thyself: Beware that the standard of thy soul wave from the loftiest battlement: For Pride is a pestilent meteor, flitting on the marshes of corruption, That will lure thee forward to thy death, if thou seek to track it to its source: Pride is a gloomy bow, arching the infernal firmament, That will lead thee on, if thou wilt hunt it, even to the dwelling of despair. Deep calleth unto deep, and mountain overtoppeth mountain, And still shalt thou fathom to no end the depth and the height of Pride: For it is the vast ambition of the soul, warped to an idol object, And nothing but a Deity in Self can quench its insatiable thirst.