The Ruling Thought

Omnipotent and kind,Lord of the deep recesses of my mind;In terrors clad, yet dearGift of the skies; so nearIn my gloom-darkened days,Thought upon which so oft I fix my gaze:

Thy nature unrevealedWho doth not contemplate? Who wears a shieldImpervious to thy power?Though tongue of man must sayWhat passion in his bosom beareth sway,All thou may'st utter seemeth new for aye.

How like a hermit loneWas this my spirit madeEven from the time thou didst my mind invade!As rapidly as lightnings flash and die,My other thoughts did fade,Not one remaining. Like a strong tower, highOn solitary plain,Thou, lonely giant, o'er my soul dost reign.

What to my visionary gaze becameAll things of earth, and allThat life can give, alone excepting thee!How on my spirit pallThe labours and the leisure,And vain desiring of still vainer pleasure,Compared unto that joy,That heavenly joy, which maketh thee my treasure!

As from the naked peaksOf rugged Appenine,With longing gaze the weary pilgrim seeksThe verdant meads that in the distance shine:Thus from the harsh and dryScene of the world, to thee I gladly fly,As to a beauteous garden, and I findThy fair abode unto my spirit kind.

I scarcely can believeThat I this life and our ignoble worldFor years of weary lengthWithout thee had the strengthTo bear. Hard to conceiveIt is that men aspire,Ignoring thee, to many a vain desire.

Ne'er from the hour when firstExperience taught me what this life can be,Did fear of death bring terror to my heart;And now a jest to meSeems what the world so baseAt times extols, but never dares to face,The necessary end:If any peril falleth to my part,Before its threat my spirit doth not bend.

I always held in scornThe craven and the mean;Now every deed, of lowly baseness born,Doth move my spirit keen;My soul doth flash with ireWhen human vileness desolates my view.This haughty age untrue,Feeding itself on barren hopes and vain,To folly gentle, and to virtue dire,That asks for things of use,Nor sees by what abuseOur life becometh useless more and more,I loathe, arising o'erIts meanness. Human acts I ne'er esteem;The crowd that doth disdainThy loveliness, in all I worthless deem.

What passion doth not yieldTo that inspired by thee?The one thou hast revealedAlone rules man in sovran majesty.Pride, hatred, avarice and fierce disdain,The zeal to shine and reign,What else than shadows vainAre they beside it? One affection livesAmong our race below,By laws eternal sentTo rule mankind, a lord omnipotent.

Life hath no meaning and not one delightExcept from that which unto man is all,The sole excuse of FateWho placed on earthly soilOur race to languish in such fruitless toil;Whereby alone at times,Not to the rabble, but the gentle heart,Life more than death appears the better part.To cull thy joys, O thought divinely sweet!The weight of human woes,Of life the weary chain,Were not endured in utter anguish vain;And I would even return,Versed as I am in every earthly ill,For such a goal to repursue the road.Of viper's sting and of the sands that burnI never felt the goadSo much, that, coming unto thy relief,It gave no balm unto terrestrial grief.

What wondrous worlds, what newImmensities, what Paradise is there,Where oft thy wizard power my spirit drewIn lofty flights, and whereBy other radiance than on earth e'er shined,I stray, nor to my mindMy earthly state recall, nor truth unkind!Such are, methinks, the dreamsOf the immortals. Ah! a dream, in sooth,Thou art, sweet thought, a garment to adornHarsh and unlovely truth,An error palpable. But even of thoseFair errors Nature shows,Thou art divine, because so strong and deep,That 'gainst the real thou thy ground dost keep;Thy power its equal seems,And only in death from mortal spirit goes.

And thou, indeed, my thought, unto my daysAlone the vital breath,Thou cherished cause of infinite despair,With me shalt fall beneath the stroke of death:I gather from the signs my soul displaysThat thou shalt reign, eternal monarch, there.All other errors, sweetDisperse on pinions fleetAt Truth's approach. And even the more I turnUpon her brow to gaze,Of whom with thee discoursing my days fly,The more the joyaunce grows,The frenzy wild whence my existence flows.Angelic loveliness!The fairest face that ever met mine eye,Methinks like image vainAttempts to rival thee. Thou art aloneThe fountain and the springOf every charm that can enchantment bring.

From when I saw thee first,What other care did ever prompt my heartThan love of thee? How much of day doth partWithout a thought of thine? In sleep immerst,When lay my weary soulBy dreams unhaunted of thy sovran form?As beautiful as dreamsThy angel vision seems.On earth below or in the distant spheres:What hope to me appearsOf finding aught more lovely than thine eyes,Or sweeter joyaunce than thy thought supplies?