Is seized with darkness of eclipse, like night amain.
What is’t He says, by which the teeming eye of cloud
Sheds forth its tears, as drops from water-skin unsewed?
What incantation to the earth addresses He,
To make it produce cattle,—whose hides used may be?
The hesitations of each puzzled child of thought
Arise from some enigma by which God’s him caught.85
On horns of a dilemma is he fixed, poor man.
‘Shall I do this,’ says he, ‘when ’ts opposite I can?’
From God, too, is the power to make selection’s choice