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Rampolli
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Tell me, thou little great big man,—
The tower, whence thou so grandly all things hast inspected,
Of what is it?—Whereon is it erected?
How cam’st thou up thyself? Its heights so smooth and bare—
How serve they thee but thence into the vale to stare?
THE PHILOSOPHERS
The principle whence everything
To life and shape ascended—
The pulley whereon Zeus the ring
Of Earth, which else in sherds would spring,
Has carefully suspended—
To genius I yield him a claim
Who fathoms for me what its name,
Save I withdraw its curtain:
It is—ten is not thirteen.
That snow makes cold, that fire burns,
That man on two feet goeth,
That in the heavens the sun sojourns—
This much the man who logic spurns
Through his own senses knoweth;
But metaphysics who has got,
Knows he that burneth, freezeth not;
Knows ‘tis the moist that wetteth,
And ‘tis the rough that fretteth.
Great Homer sings his epic high;
The hero fronts his dangers;
The brave his duty still doth ply—
And did it while, I won’t deny,
Philosophers were strangers:
But grant by heart and brain achiev’d
What Locke and Des Cartes ne’er conceiv’d—
By them yet, as behovéd,
It possible was provéd.
Strength for the Right is counted still;
Bold laughs the strong hyena;
Who rule not, servants’ parts must fill;
It goes quite tolerably ill
Upon this world’s arena;
But how it would be, if the plan
Of the universe now first began,
In many a moral system
All men may read who list ‘em.
“Man needs with man must linked be
To reach the goal of growing;
In the whole only worketh he;
Many drops go to make the sea;
Much water sets mills going.
Then with the wild wolves do not stand,
But knit the state’s enduring band:”
From doctor’s chair thus, tranquil,
Herr Pufendorf and swan-quill.
But since to all, what doctors say
Flies not as soon as spoken,
Nature will use her mother-way,
See that her chain fly not in tway,
The circle be not broken:
Meantime, until the world’s great round
Philosophy in one hath bound,
She keeps it on the move, sir,
By hunger and by love, sir.
SAYINGS OF CONFUCIUS
I
Threefold is of Time the tread:
Lingering comes the Future pacing hither;
Dartlike is the Now gone thither;
Stands the Past aye moveless, foot and head.
No impatience wings its idle
Tread of leisurely delay;
Fear or doubt it cannot bridle
Should it headlong run away;
No remorse, no incantation
Moves the standing from its station.
Wouldst thou end thy earthly journey
Wise and of good fortune full,
Make the Lingering thine attorney
Thee to counsel—not thy tool;
Not for friend the Flying take,
Nor thy foe the Standing make.
II
Threefold is of Space the way:
On unresting, without stay,
Strives the Length into the distance;
Ceaseless pours the Breadth’s insistence
Bottomless the Depth goes down.
For a sign the three are sent thee:
The tower, whence thou so grandly all things hast inspected,
Of what is it?—Whereon is it erected?
How cam’st thou up thyself? Its heights so smooth and bare—
How serve they thee but thence into the vale to stare?
THE PHILOSOPHERS
The principle whence everything
To life and shape ascended—
The pulley whereon Zeus the ring
Of Earth, which else in sherds would spring,
Has carefully suspended—
To genius I yield him a claim
Who fathoms for me what its name,
Save I withdraw its curtain:
It is—ten is not thirteen.
That snow makes cold, that fire burns,
That man on two feet goeth,
That in the heavens the sun sojourns—
This much the man who logic spurns
Through his own senses knoweth;
But metaphysics who has got,
Knows he that burneth, freezeth not;
Knows ‘tis the moist that wetteth,
And ‘tis the rough that fretteth.
Great Homer sings his epic high;
The hero fronts his dangers;
The brave his duty still doth ply—
And did it while, I won’t deny,
Philosophers were strangers:
But grant by heart and brain achiev’d
What Locke and Des Cartes ne’er conceiv’d—
By them yet, as behovéd,
It possible was provéd.
Strength for the Right is counted still;
Bold laughs the strong hyena;
Who rule not, servants’ parts must fill;
It goes quite tolerably ill
Upon this world’s arena;
But how it would be, if the plan
Of the universe now first began,
In many a moral system
All men may read who list ‘em.
“Man needs with man must linked be
To reach the goal of growing;
In the whole only worketh he;
Many drops go to make the sea;
Much water sets mills going.
Then with the wild wolves do not stand,
But knit the state’s enduring band:”
From doctor’s chair thus, tranquil,
Herr Pufendorf and swan-quill.
But since to all, what doctors say
Flies not as soon as spoken,
Nature will use her mother-way,
See that her chain fly not in tway,
The circle be not broken:
Meantime, until the world’s great round
Philosophy in one hath bound,
She keeps it on the move, sir,
By hunger and by love, sir.
SAYINGS OF CONFUCIUS
I
Threefold is of Time the tread:
Lingering comes the Future pacing hither;
Dartlike is the Now gone thither;
Stands the Past aye moveless, foot and head.
No impatience wings its idle
Tread of leisurely delay;
Fear or doubt it cannot bridle
Should it headlong run away;
No remorse, no incantation
Moves the standing from its station.
Wouldst thou end thy earthly journey
Wise and of good fortune full,
Make the Lingering thine attorney
Thee to counsel—not thy tool;
Not for friend the Flying take,
Nor thy foe the Standing make.
II
Threefold is of Space the way:
On unresting, without stay,
Strives the Length into the distance;
Ceaseless pours the Breadth’s insistence
Bottomless the Depth goes down.
For a sign the three are sent thee:
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