The Four Ages.

(a brief fragment of an extensive projected poem.)     I could be well content, allowed the use     Of past experience, and the wisdom gleand     From worn-out follies, now acknowledged such,     To recommence lifes trial, in the hope     Of fewer errors, on a second proof!     Thus, while grey evening lulld the wind, and calld     Fresh odours from the shrubbery at my side,     Taking my lonely winding walk, I mused,     And held accustomd conference with my heart;     When from within it thus a voice replied:     Couldst thou in truth? and art thou taught at length     This wisdom, and but this, from all the past?     Is not the pardon of thy long arrear,     Time wasted, violated laws, abuse     Of talents judgment, mercies, better far     Than opportunity vouchsafed to err     With less excuse, and, haply, worse effect?     I heard, and acquiesced: then to and fro     Oft pacing, as the mariner his deck,     My gravelly bounds, from self to human kind     I passd, and next considerdwhat is man.     Knows he his origin? can he ascend     By reminiscence to his earliest date?     Slept he in Adam? And in those from him     Through numerous generations, till he found     At length his destined moment to be born?     Or was he not, till fashiond in the womb?     Deep mysteries both! which schoolmen must have toild     To unriddle, and have left them mysteries still.     It is an evil incident to man,     And of the worst, that unexplored he leaves     Truths useful and attainable with ease,     To search forbidden deeps, where mystery lies     Not to be solved, and useless if it might.     Mysteries are food for angels; they digest     With ease, and find them nutriment; but man,     While yet he dwells below, must stoop to glean     His manna from the ground, or starve and die.