[
Hymn
to
Ignorance
.
A
Fragment
]
Hail
,
horrors
,
hail
!
ye
ever-gloomy
bowers
,
Ye
gothic
fanes
and
antiquated
towers
,
Where
rushy
Camus'
slowly-winding
flood
Perpetual
draws
his
humid
train
of
mud
:
Glad
I
revisit
thy
neglected
reign
;
Oh
,
take
me
to
thy
peaceful
shade
again
.
But
chiefly
thee
,
whose
influence
breathed
from
high
Augments
the
native
darkness
of
the
sky
;
Ah
,
Ignorance
!
soft
salutary
power
!
Prostrate
with
filial
reverence
I
adore
.
Thrice
hath
Hyperion
rolled
his
annual
race
,
Since
weeping
I
forsook
thy
fond
embrace
.
Oh
say
,
successful
dost
thou
still
oppose
Thy
leaden
aegis
'gainst
our
ancient
foes
?
Still
stretch
,
tenacious
of
thy
right
divine
,
The
massy
sceptre
o'er
thy
slumbering
line
?
And
dews
Lethean
through
the
land
dispense
To
steep
in
slumbers
each
benighted
sense
?
If
any
spark
of
wit's
delusive
ray
Break
out
,
and
flash
a
momentary
day
,
With
damp
,
cold
touch
forbid
it
to
aspire
,
And
huddle
up
in
fogs
the
dangerous
fire
.
Oh
say
—
she
hears
me
not
,
but
,
careless
grown
,
Lethargic
nods
upon
her
ebon
throne
.
Goddess
!
awake
,
arise
!
alas
,
my
fears
!
Can
powers
immortal
feel
the
force
of
years
?
Not
thus
of
old
,
with
ensigns
wide
unfurled
,
She
rode
triumphant
o'er
the
vanquished
world
;
Fierce
nations
owned
her
unresisted
might
,
And
all
was
Ignorance
,
and
all
was
Night
.
Oh
!
sacred
age
!
Oh
!
times
for
ever
lost
!
(
The
schoolman's
glory
,
and
the
churchman's
boast
.
)
For
ever
gone
—
yet
still
to
Fancy
new
,
Her
rapid
wings
the
transient
scene
pursue
,
And
bring
the
buried
ages
back
to
view
.
High
on
her
car
,
behold
the
grandam
ride
Like
old
Sesostris
with
barbaric
pride
;
...
a
team
of
harnessed
monarchs
bend
...