Page:Prometheus Bound, and other poems.djvu/206

 For what he may be, with our heavy hope To trust upon his soul. So, fold by fold, Explore this mummy in the priestly cope Transmitted through the darks of time, to catch The man within the wrappage, and discern How he, an honest man, upon the watch Full fifty years, for what a man may learn, Contrived to get just there; with what a snatch Of old world oboli he had to earn The passage through; with what a drowsy sop To drench the busy barkings of his brain; What ghosts of pale tradition, wreathed with hop 'Gainst wakeful thought, he had to entertain For heavenly visions; and consent to stop The clock at noon, and let the hour remain (Without vain windings up) inviolate, Against all chimings from the belfry. Lo! From every given pope, you must abate, Albeit you love him, some things-good, you know Which every given heretic you hate Claims for his own, as being plainly so. A pope must hold by popes a little,—yes, By councils,—from Nicæa up to Trent,— By hierocratic empire, more or less Irresponsible to men,-he must resent Each man's particular conscience, and repress Inquiry, meditation, argument, As tyrants faction. Also, he must not Love truth too dangerously, but prefer "The interests of the Church," because a blot Is better than a rent in miniver,— Submit to see the people swallow hot Husk-porridge which his chartered churchmen stir