Classic Poem

Pride ! origin of all our woes!
Of ignorance and fond self-love the child;
Nurst midst the sweets of flattery's bland repose,
With tenderest caution, and with accents mild—
Say, whence that haughty air?
The cheek suffus'd with passion's crimson glow?
The lowering brow—the eyes' indignant glare—
That strike with awe the trembling fools below?

Is it that fashion'd of superior clay,
Thy form the rage of fell disease defies;
That death shall spare thee on his fated way,
When far and wide his wasteful arrow flies?
Why shivers thus thy mighty frame?
Th' autumnal zephyr only shook his wings—
And flows in fainter tides the vital stream,
And languid life relaxes all her springs?

Is it that on thy comprehensive mind,
Celestial wisdom all her influence pours?
Thee to her heart does sacred science bind,
And Genius share thy solitary hours?
Then tell me thou—for thou must know—
Why falls the pebble from the mountain's brow?
By the strong influence of what magic skill
Moves thy quick hand obedient to thy will?
Why shoots from earth the bright electric fire,
Or whence art thou deriv'd, or where shalt thou retire?

Form'd of the selfsame clay, and doom'd to tread
The selfsame path, an equal fate is ours;
Nor shalt thou, arrogant of heart, upbraid
The stedfast mind that feels its equal powers;
For when thy dark and scornful eye
Shall seek to awe the independent soul,
Shall unappall'd integrity be nigh,
And anxious honor that disdains control:
So shall the mind its dignity maintain,
Nor heed th' impassion'd voice that threats in vain;
As the high cliffs of Cambria's mountains hoar,
Smile at the gathering winds that round their summits roar.

Pride ! origin of all our woes!
Of ignorance and fond self-love the child;
Nurst midst the sweets of flattery's bland repose,
With tenderest caution, and with accents mild—
Say, whence that haughty air?
The cheek suffus'd with passion's crimson glow?
The lowering brow—the eyes' indignant glare—
That strike with awe the trembling fools below?

Is it that fashion'd of superior clay,
Thy form the rage of fell disease defies;
That death shall spare thee on his fated way,
When far and wide his wasteful arrow flies?
Why shivers thus thy mighty frame?
Th' autumnal zephyr only shook his wings—
And flows in fainter tides the vital stream,
And languid life relaxes all her springs?

Is it that on thy comprehensive mind,
Celestial wisdom all her influence pours?
Thee to her heart does sacred science bind,
And Genius share thy solitary hours?
Then tell me thou—for thou must know—
Why falls the pebble from the mountain's brow?
By the strong influence of what magic skill
Moves thy quick hand obedient to thy will?
Why shoots from earth the bright electric fire,
Or whence art thou deriv'd, or where shalt thou retire?

Form'd of the selfsame clay, and doom'd to tread
The selfsame path, an equal fate is ours;
Nor shalt thou, arrogant of heart, upbraid
The stedfast mind that feels its equal powers;
For when thy dark and scornful eye
Shall seek to awe the independent soul,
Shall unappall'd integrity be nigh,
And anxious honor that disdains control:
So shall the mind its dignity maintain,
Nor heed th' impassion'd voice that threats in vain;
As the high cliffs of Cambria's mountains hoar,
Smile at the gathering winds that round their summits roar.