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On Moderation in all Things.
303
Who scan all nature's laws with minds profound,
The cause from whence attraction springs expound.
To men like you all nature's laws are known,
Tell me how, seated on His heavenly throne,
The great first mover can with power control
Those orbs which in the heavens incessant roll,
Direct their motions, make them gravitate
Towards each other with responsive weight?
Why towards the sun is this our nether world
Forever pulled, and round its axis hurled,
Why in twelve years does Jove the heavens go round,
Why of his day is ten hours space the bound?
These subtle disquisitions all are vain,
Mars measures heaven, but nature can't explain.
Thus by sure art, and by perspective's law,
You may the front of some proud palace draw,
Its architecture's to the eye revealed,
The inside of the structure is concealed.
Why should I grieve then, if my feeble sight
Cannot pierce through this veil of darkest night?
I would not, like Empedocles, aspire
To know the nature of famed Ætna's fire,
Who to walk o'er sulphurous vaults presumed,
Who fire would know, and was by fire consumed,
Let then ambition's sallies be repressed,
It is the ruling passion of the breast.
The farmer-general rude, the magistrate
Who struts with the imperious airs of state,
All these to court, contempt to suffer go,
Contempt which they to all at Paris show.
The cause from whence attraction springs expound.
To men like you all nature's laws are known,
Tell me how, seated on His heavenly throne,
The great first mover can with power control
Those orbs which in the heavens incessant roll,
Direct their motions, make them gravitate
Towards each other with responsive weight?
Why towards the sun is this our nether world
Forever pulled, and round its axis hurled,
Why in twelve years does Jove the heavens go round,
Why of his day is ten hours space the bound?
These subtle disquisitions all are vain,
Mars measures heaven, but nature can't explain.
Thus by sure art, and by perspective's law,
You may the front of some proud palace draw,
Its architecture's to the eye revealed,
The inside of the structure is concealed.
Why should I grieve then, if my feeble sight
Cannot pierce through this veil of darkest night?
I would not, like Empedocles, aspire
To know the nature of famed Ætna's fire,
Who to walk o'er sulphurous vaults presumed,
Who fire would know, and was by fire consumed,
Let then ambition's sallies be repressed,
It is the ruling passion of the breast.
The farmer-general rude, the magistrate
Who struts with the imperious airs of state,
All these to court, contempt to suffer go,
Contempt which they to all at Paris show.
Vol. 1—20
