IN. Thou, whencesoe'er thou comest, whoe'er thou art, Who breakest on our solemn sacrifice With solemn words, I pray thee not depart 510 Till thou hast told me more. This fire I seek Not for myself, whose thin and silvery hair Tells that my toilsome age nears to its end, But for my children and the aftertime, For great the need thereof, wretched our state; Nay, set by what has been, our happiness Is very want, so that what now is not Is but the measure of what yet may be. And first are barest needs, which well I know Fire would supply, but I have hope beyond, 520 That Nature in recovering her right Would kinder prove to man who seeks to learn Her secrets and unfold the cause of life. So tell me, if thou knowest, what is fire? Doth earth contain it? or, since from the sun Fire reaches us, since in the glimmering stars And pallid moon, in lightning, and the glance Of tracking meteors that at nightfall show How in the air a thousand sightless things Travel, and ever on their windswift course 530 Flame when they list and into darkness go,-- Since in all these a fiery nature dwells, Is fire an airy essence, a thing of heaven, That, could we poise it, were an alien power To make our wisdom less, our wonder more? PR. Thy wish to know is good, and happy is he Who thus from chance and change has launched his mind To dwell for ever with undisturbèd truth. This high ambition doth not prompt his hand To crime, his right and pleasure are not wronged 540 By folly of his fellows, nor his eye Dimmed by the griefs that move the tears of men. Son of the earth, and citizen may be Of Argos or of Athens and her laws, But still the eternal nature, where he looks, O'errules him with the laws which laws obey, And in her heavenly city enrols his heart. IN. Thus ever have I held of happiness, The child of heavenly truth, and thus have found it In prayer and meditation and still thought, 550 And thus my peace of mind based on a floor That doth not quaver like the joys of sense: Those I possess enough in seeing my slaves And citizens enjoy, having myself Tasted for once and put their sweets away. But of that heavenly city, of which thou sayest Her laws o'errule us, have I little learnt, For when my wandering spirit hath dared alone The unearthly terror of her voiceless halls, She hath fallen from delight, and without guide 560 Turned back, and from her errand fled for fear.