Cunningham, Joseph Thomas

The Round Table Series

76348

CHARLES DARWIN

NATURALIST

EDINBURGH: WILLIAM BROWN

26 PRINCES STREET

MDCCCLXXXVI

RUGGED sage, strange confidant wert thou Of Nature's choice to learn long secret lore, Age-baffling riddles answerless before! Ah, woman-like, she in the end must bow To patience of pursuit, to constant vow, To cunning study, yielding more and more, To thy long siege, until the very core Of her thought showed, invisible till now.

And thou art crowned with measureless acclaim
The greatest son of Science' brightest day,
To Newton's self at least co-equal fame:

Nay more, thou art a rock above the seas
Of superstition, and by thee the way

To a new church is given, and the keys!

M

AN'S thought is like Antæus, and must be
Touched to the ground of Nature to regain
Fresh force, new impulse, else it would remain

Dead in the grip of strong Authority.

But, once thereon reset, 'tis like a tree,

Sap-swollen in spring-time: bonds may not restrain;
Nor weight repress; its rootlets rend in twain

Dead stones and walls and rocks resistlessly.

Thine then it was to touch dead thoughts to earth,
Till of old dreams sprang new philosophies,
From visions systems, and beneath thy spell
Swiftly uprose, like magic palaces,—
Thyself half-conscious only of thy worth

Calm priest of a tremendous oracle!