SERIO-COMIC VERSE. 617 



In that well-remembered Vision 

 I was led to the decision 

 Still to hold in calm derision 



Pedantry, however draped ; 

 Since that artificial spectre 

 Proved a paltry sub-collector, 

 And had nothing to connect her 



With the being whom she aped. 



I could never finish telling 

 You of her that has her dwelling 

 Where those springs of truth are welling, 



Whence all streams of beauty run. 

 She has taught me that creation 

 Bears the test of calculation, 

 But that Man forgets his station 



If he stops when that is done. 



Is our algebra the measure 

 Of that unexhausted treasure 

 That affords the purest pleasure, 



Ever found when it is sought ? 

 Let us rather, realising 

 The conclusions thence arising 

 Nature more than symbols prizing, 



Learn to worship as we ought. 



Worship ? Yes, what worship better 

 Than when free'd from every fetter 

 That the uninforming letter 



Eivets on the tortured mind, 

 Man, with silent admiration 

 Sees the glories of Creation, 

 And, in holy contemplation, 



Leaves the learned crowd behind ! 



