The Task and Other Poems [50]
O'er all we feed on, power of life and death. But read the instrument, and mark it well; The oppression of a tyrannous control Can find no warrant there. Feed then, and yield Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin, Feed on the slain, but spare the living brute.
The Governor of all, Himself to all So bountiful, in whose attentive ear The unfledged raven and the lion's whelp Plead not in vain for pity on the pangs Of hunger unassuaged, has interposed, Not seldom, His avenging arm, to smite The injurious trampler upon nature's law, That claims forbearance even for a brute. He hates the hardness of a Balaam's heart, And, prophet as he was, he might not strike The blameless animal, without rebuke, On which he rode. Her opportune offence Saved him, or the unrelenting seer had died. He sees that human equity is slack To interfere, though in so just a cause, And makes the task His own; inspiring dumb And helpless victims with a sense so keen Of injury, with such knowledge of their strength, And such sagacity to take revenge, That oft the beast has seemed to judge the man. An ancient, not a legendary tale, By one of sound intelligence rehearsed, (If such, who plead for Providence may seem In modern eyes) shall make the doctrine clear.
Where England, stretched towards the setting sun, Narrow and long, o'erlooks the western wave, Dwelt young Misagathus; a scorner he Of God and goodness, atheist in ostent, Vicious in act, in temper savage-fierce. He journeyed, and his chance was, as he went, To join a traveller of far different note-- Evander, famed for piety, for years Deserving honour, but for wisdom more. Fame had not left the venerable man A stranger to the manners of the youth, Whose face, too, was familiar to his view. Their way was on the margin of the land, O'er the green summit of the rocks whose base Beats back the roaring surge, scarce heard so high. The charity that warmed his heart was moved At sight of the man-monster. With a smile Gentle and affable, and full of grace, As fearful of offending whom he wished Much to persuade, he plied his ear with truths Not harshly thundered forth or rudely pressed, But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet. "And dost thou dream," the impenetrable man Exclaimed, "that me the lullabies of age, And fantasies of dotards such as thou, Can cheat, or move a moment's fear in me? Mark now the proof I give thee, that the brave Need no such aids as superstition lends To steel their hearts against the dread of death." He spoke, and to the precipice at hand Pushed with a madman's fury. Fancy shrinks, And the blood thrills and curdles at the thought Of such a gulf as he designed his grave. But though the felon on his back could dare The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed Declined the death, and wheeling swiftly round, Or ere his hoof had pressed the crumbling verge, Baffled his rider, saved against his will. The frenzy of the brain may be redressed By medicine well applied, but without grace The heart's insanity admits no cure. Enraged the more by what might have reformed His horrible intent, again he sought Destruction, with a zeal to be destroyed, With sounding whip and rowels dyed in blood. But still in vain. The Providence that meant A longer date to the far nobler beast, Spared yet again the ignobler for his sake. And now, his prowess proved, and his sincere, Incurable obduracy evinced, His rage grew cool; and, pleased perhaps to have earned So cheaply the renown of that attempt, With looks of some complacence he resumed His road, deriding much the blank amaze Of good Evander, still where he was left Fixed motionless, and petrified with dread. So on they fared; discourse on other themes Ensuing, seemed to obliterate the past, And tamer far for so much fury shown (As is the course of rash and fiery men) The rude companion smiled as if transformed. But 'twas a transient calm. A storm was near, An unsuspected storm. His hour was come. The impious challenger of power divine Was now to learn that Heaven, though slow to wrath, Is never with impunity defied. His horse,
The Governor of all, Himself to all So bountiful, in whose attentive ear The unfledged raven and the lion's whelp Plead not in vain for pity on the pangs Of hunger unassuaged, has interposed, Not seldom, His avenging arm, to smite The injurious trampler upon nature's law, That claims forbearance even for a brute. He hates the hardness of a Balaam's heart, And, prophet as he was, he might not strike The blameless animal, without rebuke, On which he rode. Her opportune offence Saved him, or the unrelenting seer had died. He sees that human equity is slack To interfere, though in so just a cause, And makes the task His own; inspiring dumb And helpless victims with a sense so keen Of injury, with such knowledge of their strength, And such sagacity to take revenge, That oft the beast has seemed to judge the man. An ancient, not a legendary tale, By one of sound intelligence rehearsed, (If such, who plead for Providence may seem In modern eyes) shall make the doctrine clear.
Where England, stretched towards the setting sun, Narrow and long, o'erlooks the western wave, Dwelt young Misagathus; a scorner he Of God and goodness, atheist in ostent, Vicious in act, in temper savage-fierce. He journeyed, and his chance was, as he went, To join a traveller of far different note-- Evander, famed for piety, for years Deserving honour, but for wisdom more. Fame had not left the venerable man A stranger to the manners of the youth, Whose face, too, was familiar to his view. Their way was on the margin of the land, O'er the green summit of the rocks whose base Beats back the roaring surge, scarce heard so high. The charity that warmed his heart was moved At sight of the man-monster. With a smile Gentle and affable, and full of grace, As fearful of offending whom he wished Much to persuade, he plied his ear with truths Not harshly thundered forth or rudely pressed, But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet. "And dost thou dream," the impenetrable man Exclaimed, "that me the lullabies of age, And fantasies of dotards such as thou, Can cheat, or move a moment's fear in me? Mark now the proof I give thee, that the brave Need no such aids as superstition lends To steel their hearts against the dread of death." He spoke, and to the precipice at hand Pushed with a madman's fury. Fancy shrinks, And the blood thrills and curdles at the thought Of such a gulf as he designed his grave. But though the felon on his back could dare The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed Declined the death, and wheeling swiftly round, Or ere his hoof had pressed the crumbling verge, Baffled his rider, saved against his will. The frenzy of the brain may be redressed By medicine well applied, but without grace The heart's insanity admits no cure. Enraged the more by what might have reformed His horrible intent, again he sought Destruction, with a zeal to be destroyed, With sounding whip and rowels dyed in blood. But still in vain. The Providence that meant A longer date to the far nobler beast, Spared yet again the ignobler for his sake. And now, his prowess proved, and his sincere, Incurable obduracy evinced, His rage grew cool; and, pleased perhaps to have earned So cheaply the renown of that attempt, With looks of some complacence he resumed His road, deriding much the blank amaze Of good Evander, still where he was left Fixed motionless, and petrified with dread. So on they fared; discourse on other themes Ensuing, seemed to obliterate the past, And tamer far for so much fury shown (As is the course of rash and fiery men) The rude companion smiled as if transformed. But 'twas a transient calm. A storm was near, An unsuspected storm. His hour was come. The impious challenger of power divine Was now to learn that Heaven, though slow to wrath, Is never with impunity defied. His horse,