And justly, should recompense well-doing, as well as be strict with an offender; The laurel is cheap to the giver, but precious in his sight who hath won it, Many a father hath erred, in that he hath withheld reproof, But more have mostly sinned, in withholding praise where it was due: There be many such as Eli among men ; but these be more culpable than Eli, Who chill the fountain of exertion by the freezing looks of indifference: Ye call a man easy and good, yet he is as a two-edged sword; He rebuketh not vice, and it is strong: he comforteth not virtue, and it fainteth. There is nothing more potent among men than a gift timely bestowed, EXPECT not praise from the mean, neither gratitude from the selfish; And his stubbornness never shall acknowledge the good he hath taken from thy hand: Yea, rather will he turn and be thy foe, lest thou gather from his friend ship, That he doth account thee creditor, and standeth in the second place, thee, So shalt thou have a better praise, and reap a richer harvest of reward. Ir a man hold fast to thy creed, and fit his thinking to thy notions, But he who blameth often, shall not keep a friend; The velvet-coated apricot is one thing, and the spiked horse-chestnut is another, A handle of smooth amber is pleasanter than rough buck-horn. NOTHING but may be better, and every better might be best; The blind may discern, and the simple prove, fault or want in all things, And a little mind looketh on the lily with a microscopic eye, Eager and glad to pry out specks on its robe of purity; But a great mind gazeth on the sun, glorying in his brightness, And taking large knowledge of his good, in the broad prairie of creation: What, though he hatch basilisks? what, though spots are on the sun? In fulness is his worth, in fulness be his praise! OF SELF-ACQUAINTANCE. KNOWLEDGE holdeth by the hilt, and heweth out a road to conquest; Ignorance graspeth the blade, and is wounded by its own good sword: Knowledge distilleth health from the virulence of opposite poisons; Ignorance mixeth wholesomes unto the breeding of disease: Knowledge is leagued with the universe, and findeth a friend in all things; But ignorance is every where a stranger; unwelcome, ill at ease, and out of place. A man is helpless and unsafe up to the measure of his ignorance, For he lacketh perception of the aptitudes commending such a matter to his use, Clutching at the horn of danger, while he judgeth it the handle of secu rity, Or casting his anchor so widely, that the granite reef is just within the tether. Untaught in science he is but half alive, stupidly taking note of nothing, for folly, Dealeth so shrewdly with the honest, they cannot but suspect him for a thief; With an unknown God, he maketh mock of reason, fathering contrivance on chance, Or doting with superstitious dread on some crooked image of his fancy But ignorant of Self, he is weakness at heart; the keystone crumbleth into sand, There is panic in the general's tent, the oak is hollow as hemlock; Though the warm sap creepeth up its bark, filling out the sheaf of leaves, Though knowledge of all things beside add proofs of seeming vigour, Though the master-mind of the royal sage feast on the mysteries of wis dom, Yet ignorance of self shall bow down the spirit of a Solomon to idols; The storm of temptation, sweeping by, shall snap that oak like a reed, And the proud luxuriance of its tufted crown drag it the sooner to the dust. YOUTH, confident in self, tampereth with dangerous dalliance, Till the vice his heart once hated hath locked him in her foul embrace: Manhood, through zeal of doing good, seeketh high place for its occasions, Unwitting that the bleak mountain-air will nip the tender budding of his motives; Or painfully, for love of truth, he climbeth the ladder of science, Till pride of intellect, heating his heart, warpeth it aside to delusion. The gray-beard looketh on his gold, till he loveth its yellow smile, The sensitive broodeth on his slights, the fearful poreth over horrors, A smith at the loom, and a weaver at the forge, were but sorry craftsmen; But, cutting against the grain, toil on to no good end; And the light of a thoughtful spirit is quenched beneath the bushel of commerce, While meaner plodding minds are driven up the mountain of philosophy: The cedar withereth on a wall, while the house-leek is fattening in a hot-bed, And the dock with its rank leaves hideth the sun from violets. To every thing a fitting place, a proper honourable use; The humblest measure of mind is bright in its humble sphere: The glowworm, creeping in the hedge, lighteth her evening torch, Ravens croaking in darkness, and a skylark trilling to the sun, The voice of a screech-owl from a ruin, and the black-bird's whistle in a wood, A cushion-footed camel for the sands, and a swift reindeer for the snows, In all things is there a fitness: discord with discord hath its music; THE blind at an easel, the palsied with a graver, the halt making for the goal, The deaf ear tuning psaltery, the stammerer discoursing eloquence,— Alike if itself be crooked, or the bow be strung awry; And the mind which were excellent in one way, but foolishly toileth in another, What is it but an ill-strung bow, and its aim a crooked arrow ? By knowledge of self, thou provest thy powers; put not the racer to the plough, Nor goad the toilsome ox to wager his slowness with the fleet: Nor thrust the white hand of peace into the gauntlet of defiance: |