Whatever may be thought of his theories, they
belong at least to the highest order of philosophy; and it will be seen
from the poems I give that they must have borne their part in lifting the
soul of the man towards a lofty spiritual condition of faith and
fearlessness. The mystical philosophy seems to me safe enough in the
hands of a poet: with others it may degenerate into dank and dusty
materialism.
RESOLUTION.
Where's now the objects of thy fears,
Needless sighs, and fruitless tears?
They be all gone like idle dream
Suggested from the body's steam.
* * * * *
What's plague and prison? Loss of friends?
War, dearth, and death that all things ends?
Mere bugbears for the childish mind;
Pure panic terrors of the blind.
Collect thy soul unto one sphere
Of light, and 'bove the earth it rear;
Those wild scattered thoughts that erst
Lay loosely in the world dispersed,
Call in:--thy spirit thus knit in one
Fair lucid orb, those fears be gone
Like vain impostures of the night,
That fly before the morning bright.
Then with pure eyes thou shalt behold
How the first goodness doth infold
All things in loving tender arms;
That deemed mischiefs are no harms,
But sovereign salves and skilful cures
Of greater woes the world endures;
That man's stout soul may win a state
Far raised above the reach of fate.
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