Pythagoras

Seasons

Thou vainly, O Man, self-deceiver, exaltest Thyself the king and only thinker of this world, Where life aboundeth infinite to destroy thee.

Well-guided are thy forces and govern'd bravely, But like a tyrant crūel or savage monster Thou disregardest ignorantly all bēing Save only thine own insubordinate ruling:

As if the flowër held not a happy pact with Spring; As if the brutes lack'd reason and sorrow's torment; Or ev'n divine love from the small atoms grew not, Their grave affection unto thy passion mingling.

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An truly were it nobler and better wisdom To fear the blind thing blindly, lest it espy thee; And scrupulously do[v]honour to dumb creatures,

No one offending impiously, nor forcing To service of vile uses; ordering rather Thy slave to beauty, compelling lovingkindness.

So should desire, the only priestess of Nature Divinely inspir'd, like a good monarch rule thee, And lead thee onward in the consummate motion Of life eternal unto heav'nly perfection.

Elegiacs

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