ON FOOLS AND FOLLY

 

Love’s Folly

 

            She with whom all my thoughts dwell, is averse—

                   She loves another. He whom she desires

            Turns to a fairer face. Another worse

             For me afflicted is with deeper fires.

            Fie on my love and me and him and her!

            Fie most on Love, this madness’ minister! 

 

The Middle Sort

 

            Easily shalt thou the ignorant appease;

                        The wise more easily is satisfied;

                        But one who builds his raw and foolish pride

            On a little lore not God himself can please. 

 

Obstinacy in Folly

 

            Go, with strong violence thy jewel tear

                        From the fierce alligator’s yawning jaws;

            Swim the wild surges when they lash the air

                        Billow on billow thundering without pause;

            Or set an angry serpent in thy hair

            For garland! Sooner shalt thou gain their ruth

            Than conquer the fool’s obstinate heart with truth. 

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On the Same

 

            Nay, thou wilt find sweet oil in the sea-sands,

            Press them but firmly in thy strenuous hands:

            The desert-born mirage shall slake thy thirst,

            Or wandering through the earth thou shalt be first

            To find the horns of hares, who think’st to school

            With reason the prejudgments of the fool. 

 

Obstinacy in Vice

 

            Yea, wouldst thou task thy muscles then the dread

            Strength of the mammoth to constrain with thread,

            Canst thou the diamond’s adamant heart disclose

            With the sweet edge and sharpness of a rose,

            With a poor drop of honey wondrously

            Wilt thou make sweetness of the wide salt sea,

            Who dream’st with sugared perfect words to gain

            The unhonest to the ways of noble men. 

 

Folly’s Wisdom

 

            One cloak on ignorance absolutely fits;

                        Justly if worn, some grace is even lent;

            Silence in sessions of the learned sits

                        On the fool’s brow like a bright ornament. 

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A Little Knowledge

 

            When I was with a little knowledge cursed,

                        Like a mad elephant I stormed about

            And thought myself all-knowing. But when deep-versed

            Rich minds some portion of their wealth disbursed

                        My poverty to raise, then for a lout

            And dunce I knew myself, and the insolence went

            Out from me like a fever violent. 

 

Pride of Littleness

 

            The dog upon a meatless bone and lank

                        Horrible, stinking, vile, with spittle wet,

            Feasts and with heaven’s nectar gives it rank.

                        Then though the ambrosial God should by him stand,

            He is not awed nor feels how base his fate,

                        But keeps his ghastly gettings more in hand.

            The little nature deems its small things great

            And virtue scorns and strength and noble state. 

 

Facilis Descensus

 

            In highest heavens the Ganges’ course began;

                        From Shiva’s loftiest brow to the white snows

            She tumbles, nor on the cold summits can,

                        But headlong seeks the valley and the rose.

            Thence downward still the heaven-born waters ran.

            Say not, “Is this that Ganges ? can her place

                        Be now so low?” Rather when man at all

            From heavenly reason swerves, he sinks from grace

                        Swiftly. A thousand voices downward call,

                        A thousand doors are opened to his fall.  

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The Great Incurable

 

            For all ill things there is a cure; the fire’s

                        Red spleen cool water shall at once appease,

            And noontide’s urgent rays the sunshade tires,

                        And there are spells for poison, and disease

            Finds in the leech’s careful drugs its ease.

            The raging elephant yet feels the goad,

                        And the dull ass and obstinate bullock rule

            Cudgel and stick and force upon their road.

                        For one sole plague no cure is found — the fool. 

 

Bodies without Mind

 

            Some minds there are to Art and Beauty dead,

                        Music and poetry on whose dull ear

            Fall barren. Horns grace not their brutish head,

                        Tails too they lack, yet is their beasthood clear.

            That Heaven ordained not upon grass their feasts,

            Good fortune is this for the other beasts. 

 

The Human Herd

 

            Whose days to neither charity nor thought

                        Are given, nor holy deeds nor virtues prized,

            Nor learning, such to cumber earth were brought.

                        How in the human world as men disguised

            This herd walk grazing, higher things unsought! 

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A Choice

 

            Better were this, to roam in deserts wild,

                        On difficult mountains and by desolate pools,

            A savage life with wild beasts reconciled,

                        Than Paradise itself mated with fools. 

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