The man is apathetic, you deduce? Contrariwise he loves both old and young, And birds-how say I? flowers of the field — In a master's workshop, loving what they make. According to some preconceived design, Its cause and cure and I must hold my peace! Thou wilt object — why have I not ere this Perished in a tumult many years ago, -- Accused, our learning's fate, of wizardry, And creed prodigious as described to me. To occult learning in our lord the sage That lived there in the pyramid alone) Was wrought by the mad people On vain recourse, as I conjecture it, that's their wont To his tried virtue, for miraculous help How could he stop the earthquake? That's their way! The other imputations must be lies: But take one-though I loathe to give it thee, In mere respect to any good man's fame! (And after all our patient Lazarus Is stark mad Perhaps not should we count on what he says? though in writing to a leech 'Tis well to keep back nothing of a case.) This man so cured regards the curer then, That came and dwelt in flesh on it awhile! -'Sayeth that such an One was born and lived, Taught, healed the sick, broke bread at his own house Then died, with Lazarus by, for aught I know, And yet was ... what I said nor choose repeat, And must have so avouched himself, in fact, In hearing of this very Lazarus Who saith - but why all this of what he saith? Why write of trivial matters, things of price Thy pardon for this long and tedious case, Which, now that I review it, needs must seem Nor I myself discern in what is writ Good cause for the peculiar interest And awe indeed this man has touched me with. A moon made like a face with certain spots The very God! think, Abib; dost thou think? So, the All-Great, were the All-Loving too So, through the thunder comes a human voice 66 Saying, "O heart I made, a heart beats here! Face, my hands fashioned, see it in myself. Thou hast no power nor may'st conceive of mine, Is surmised on the garret-stairs, 4. And the spider, to serve his ends, Arms and legs outspread, On the table's midst descends, Comes to find, God knows what friends! In the vacancy "Twixt the wall and me, From the hair-plait's chestnut-gold 7. Have and hold, then and there, Her, from head to foot, Breathing and mute, |