Is rich with delicate aids to help incurious man.
Still, Mind is up and stirring, and pryeth in the corners of contrivance,
Often from the dark recesses picking out bright seeds of truth:
Knowledge hath clipped the lightning's wings, and mewed it up for a purpose,
Training to some domestic task the fiery bird of heaven;
Tamed is the spirit of the storm, to slave in all peaceful arts,
To walk with husbandry and science; to stand in the vanguard against death:
And the chemist balanceth his elements with more than magic skill,
Commanding stones that they be bread, and draining sweetness out of wormwood.
Yet man, heedless of a God, counteth up vain reckonings,