august thirst
If Wisdom is our Lesson (and what else
Ennobles Man? what else have Angels learn’d?),
Grief! more Proficients in thy School are made,
Than Genius, or proud Learning, e’er could boast.
Voracious Learning, often over-fed,
Digests not into Sense her motley Meal.
This Book-Case, with dark booty almost burst,
This Forager on others Wisdom, leaves
Her Native-Farm, her Reason, quite untill’d.
With mix’d Manure she surfeits the rank Soil,
Dung’d, but not drest; and rich to Beggary.
A Pomp untameable of Weeds prevails.
Her Servant’s Wealth, encumber’d Wisdom mourns.And what says Genius? “Let the Dull Be Wise.”
Genius too hard for Right, can prove it Wrong;
And loves to boast, where blush Men less inspir’d.
It pleads Exemption from the Laws of Sense;
Considers Reason as a Leveller;
And scorns to share a Blessing with the Croud.
That Wise it could be, thinks an ample Claim
To Glory, and to Pleasure gives the rest.
Crassus but sleeps, Ardelio is undone.
Wisdom less shudders at a Fool, than Wit.But Wisdom smiles, when humbled mortals weep.
- Spelling, punctuation &c. following Cornford’s edition, which features an adequate but not exhaustive commentary. [↩]