New realms, new worlds, exulting Science claims, Still the dim future unexplored remains; Her trembling scales the far-off planet weigh, Her torturing prisms its elements betray,-- We know what ores the fires of Sirius melt, What vaporous metals gild Orion's belt; Angels, archangels, may have yet to learn Those hidden truths our heaven-taught eyes discern; Yet vain is Knowledge, with her mystic wand, To pierce the cloudy screen and read beyond; Once to the silent stars the fates were known, To us they tell no secrets but their own. At Israel's altar still we humbly bow, But where, oh where, are Israel's prophets now? Where is the sibyl with her hoarded leaves? Where is the charm the weird enchantress weaves? No croaking raven turns the auspex pale, No reeking altars tell the morrow's tale; The measured footsteps of the Fates are dumb, Unseen, unheard, unheralded, they come, Prophet and priest and all their following fail. Who then is left to rend the future's veil? Who but the poet, he whose nicer sense No film can baffle with its slight defence, Whose finer vision marks the waves that stray, Felt, but unseen, beyond the violet ray?-- Who, while the storm-wind waits its darkening shroud, Foretells the tempest ere he sees the cloud,-- Stays not for time his secrets to reveal, But reads his message ere he breaks the seal. So Mantua's bard foretold the coming day Ere Bethlehem's infant in the manger lay; The promise trusted to a mortal tongue Found listening ears before the angels sung. So while his load the creeping pack-horse galled, While inch by inch the dull canal-boat crawled, Darwin beheld a Titan from "afar Drag the slow barge or drive the rapid car," That panting giant fed by air and flame, The mightiest forges task their strength to tame. Happy the poet! him no tyrant fact Holds in its clutches to be chained and racked; Him shall no mouldy document convict, No stern statistics gravely contradict; No rival sceptre threats his airy throne; He rules o'er shadows, but he reigns alone. Shall I the poet's broad dominion claim Because you bid me wear his sacred name For these few moments? Shall I boldly clash My flint and steel, and by the sudden flash Read the fair vision which my soul descries Through the wide pupils of its wondering eyes? List then awhile; the fifty years have sped; The third full century's opened scroll is spread, Blank to all eyes save his who dimly sees The shadowy future told in words like these.