Put these out of account; yea, more I say, banish also From the credit sŭm of enjoyment those simple AFFECTIONS, Whose common exercise informs our natural instinct; That, set in our animal flesh-fabric, of our very lifeblood Draw their subsistence, and even in ungenerous hearts Root, like plants in stony deserts and 'neath pitiless snows. Yea, put away all LOVE, the blessings and pīeties[v]of home, All delicate heart-bonds, vital tendernesses untold, Joys that fear to be named, feelings too holy to gaze on; 60 And with his inviolate peace-trīumph his passionate war Be forgone, his mighty desire, thrilling ecstasies, ardours Of mystic reverence, his fierce flame-eager emotions, Idolatrous service, blind faith and ritual of fire. If from us all these things were taken away, (that is all art And all beauty whate'er, and all love's varied affection,) Yet would enough subsist in other concerns to suffice us, And feed intelligence, and make life's justification. What this is, if you should ask me, beyond or above the rejoicing In vegetant or brute existence, answer is easy; 70 'Tis the reflective effort of mind that, conscious of itself, Fares forth exploring nature for principle and cause, Keenly with all the cunning pleasure and instinct of a hunter, Who, in craft fashioning weapon and sly snare, tracketh after His prey fl[=y]ing afield, and that which his arm killeth eateth.