Finds the world mighty as ’tis small; yet must be fought the unequal fray; A myriad giants here; and there a pinch of dust, a clod of clay. Yes! maugre all thy dreams of peace still must the fight unfair be fought; Where thou mayst learn the noblest lore, to know that all we know is nought. True to thy Nature, to Thy self, Fame and Disfame nor hope nor fear: Enough to thee the small still voice aye thund’ering in thine inner ear. From self-approval seek applause: What ken not men thou kennest, thou! Spurn ev’ry idol others raise: Before thine own Ideal bow: Be thine own Deus: Make self free, liberal as the circling air: Thy Thought to thee an Empire be; break every prison’ing lock and bar: Do thou the Ought to self aye owed; here all the duties meet and blend, In widest sense, withouten care of what began, for what shall end. Thus, as thou view the Phantom-forms which in the misty Past were thine, To be again the thing thou wast with honest pride thou may’st decline; And, glancing down the range of years, fear not thy future self to see; Resign’d to life, to death resign’d, as though the choice were nought to thee. On Thought itself feed not thy thought; nor turn from Sun and Light to gaze, At darkling cloisters paved with tombs, where rot the bones of bygone days: “Eat not thy heart,” the Sages said; “nor mourn the Past, the buried Past;” Do what thou dost, be strong, be brave; and, like the Star, nor rest nor haste. Pluck the old woman from thy breast: Be stout in woe, be stark in weal; Do good for Good is good to do: Spurn bribe of Heav’en and threat of Hell. To seek the True, to glad the heart, such is of life the HIGHER LAW, Whose differ’ence is the Man’s degree, the Man of gold, the Man of straw. See not that something in Mankind that rouses hate or scorn or strife, Better the worm of Izrâil* than Death that walks in form of life. * The Angel of Death. Survey thy kind as One whose wants in the great Human Whole unite;* The Homo rising high from earth to seek the Heav’ens of Life-in-Light; * The “Great Man” of the Enochites and the Mormons. And hold Humanity one man, whose universal agony Still strains and strives to gain the goal, where agonies shall cease to be. Believe in all things; none believe; judge not nor warp by “Facts” the thought; See clear, hear clear, tho’ life may seem Mâyâ and Mirage, Dream and Naught. Abjure the Why and seek the How: the God and gods enthroned on high, Are silent all, are silent still; nor hear thy voice, nor deign reply. The Now, that indivis’ible point which studs the length of inf’inite line Whose ends are nowhere, is thine all, the puny all thou callest thine. Perchance the law some Giver hath: Let be! let be! what canst thou know? A myriad races came and went; this Sphinx hath seen them come and go.