“A land of darkness, with no hope of light;
A stretching forth vain hands of faith to clasp
Dim phantoms that for aye elude their grasp;
A wand'ring of tir'd feet the livelong night;
A yearning and desire that never rest,
Striving for knowledge;—ruins wild and hoar
Of ancient fanes—(their worshippers no more)
This was your fathers' Islands of the Blest!”
“Nought more?—Yea, more—the stern resolve and true;
Fidelity, and never-failing trust,
Thro' all the darkling maze and fearful doubt;
Think ye so light of these things, ye, the new?
“Still, over all the sentence stern but just,
‘Ye cannot e'er by searching find HIM out.’”