408 POEMS OF GEORGE ELIOT.
Strict discipline. Were I physician here
I would prescribe that exercise of soul
Which lies in full obedience : you ask,
Obedience to what ? The answer lies
Within the word itself ; for how obey
What has no rule, asserts no absolute claim ?
Take inclination, taste — why, that is you,
No rule above you. Science, reasoning
On nature's order — they exist and move
Solely by disputation, hold no pledge
Of final consequence, but push the swing
Where Epicurus and the Stoic sit
In endless see-saw. One authority,
And only one, says simply this, Obey :
Place yourself in that current (test it so f-)
Of spiritual order where at least
Lies promise of a high communion,
A Head informing members. Life that^' breathes
With gift of forces over and above
The j^lus of arithmetic interchange.
' The Church too has a body,' you oy^^^h
' Can be dissected, put beneath the )|-6^s
And shown the merest continuity
Of all existence else beneath the sr['^*
I grant you ; but the lens will not Ttiisprove
A present which eludes it. Take '^[{^^^ ^^*'
Your highest passion, widest-reachp^^S thought;
Show their conditions if you will
But though you saw the final atonp"^*^^^^*^®
Making each molecule that stand&f ^^^ ^^^^^
Of love being present, Avhere is stP^ ^^^^ love ?
How measure that, how certify itP "^'eight ?
And so I say, the body of the Chp^'^^^
Carries a Presence, promises and f K^f ts
Never disproved — Avhose argumr^* ^^ found
