598 JAMES CLERK MAXWELL. 



Swift and steady, on they came ; 

 At the temple loud acclaim 

 Greeted that illustrious dame, 

 Blest above every other. 



Then, while triumph filled her breast, 

 Loud she prayed above the rest, 

 Give my sons whatever best 



Man may receive from heaven. 

 To the shrine the brothers stept, 

 Low they bowed, they sunk, they slept, 

 Stillness o'er their brave limbs crept : 



Eest was the guerdon given. 



Such the simple story told, 

 By a sage renowned of old, l 

 To a king 2 whose fabled gold 



Could not procure him learning. 

 Heathen was the sage indeed, 

 Yet his tale we gladly read, 

 Thro' his dark and doubtful creed 



Glimpses of Truth discerning. 



Now no more the altar's blaze 

 Glares athwart our worldly haze, 

 Warning men how evil ways 



Lead to just tribulation. 

 Now no more the temple stands, 

 Pointing out to godless lands 

 That which is not made with hands, 



Even the whole Creation. 



Ask no more, then, " what is best, 

 How shall those you love be blest," 

 Ask at once, eternal Eest, 



Peace and assurance giving. 



1 Solon. 2 Croesus. 



