To whose meek soul no knowledge e’er was given,
Save that, of all most high,—that guides to heaven
Far as the sun’s pure radiance, streaming bright,
Transcends the glow-worm’s dim and fading light,
The wisdom to his soul vouchsafed from high
Exceeds the earth-born fires that flash—and die!
Oh! where shall pride securely harbour then,
Where urge his claims to rule the minds of men?
Blest Eden knew him not,—where all was fair—
Where all was faultless—pride abode not there!