There, still she sits in emblematic guise,
The yet unsolved enigma of the wise;
All blind without (gainsay it not despite
Of high Minerva) all within is light:
Speak, sacred bird, give utterance divine
To those dark syllables, that all combine,

"Man know thyself!" thou needst nought else to know

For bliss above, and happiness below,

For joy, and health, and peace, or if for gold

Thy thirst, and power, I promise power and gold.

Know but thyself! within, within thou❜lt find

The pure light, outwardly like me be blind!

These three short words, all blank to learning's scowl, And scoffing, loud, loud! louder, speak, my Owl.

Thou musing, moping, melancholy bird,
What genius drew thee? what ambition stirr'd?
How hast thou climb'd, or flapp'd thy stealthy wing
To heights like these, where songsters cease to sing?
And there thou sit'st exposed, a joyless thing.
Thou darkness visible, in light's own rays,

Of all that fly the mockery and the maze.

Thou would'st not climb, but in thy humbler sphere Thou wert not happy, and what art thou here? Wouldst thou aspire thus bodily to stray,

High as the Polar star or milky way?
In this empyreal ether to presume

Thou art too earthy, and too gross thy plume;
Too dull on earth, high Heaven to explore,
Where Jove's own eagle only dare to soar.
To thee what's nectar? what's ambrosian fare ?
All here to thee is thin and empty air;
What's Helicon to thee, and what art thou
To Helicon? look down, thou hast enow
Below to brood on, thick and murky clump
Of frill and feather, still to keep thee plump.
All powerless here, and faint be thy sojourn,
For earth thou art, to earth thou shalt return.
Athenian spirit! light with wisdom's glow,
After life's long ordeal past below,

Freed from thy bonds, thou well may'st here aspire
Once more to rise, and bear Athenian fire.

With drooping wing, and silent as the snow,
In eddying whirl she swoops again below;
And there to mock, soliloquize and grieve,
All day she sits from morn till dewy eve;
Misprized in Heaven, and understood by few
On earth, owls like herself, to whit to whoo!
Seems haunting this vain, busy, trifling ground
Only to hoot, and still to hoot on all around!
And thus a fellow bird, that ne'er has sung
Till now, interprets close thy unknown tongue :

Thou owe'st the penance of thy birth, like all
Gross body ever, ever doom'd to fall,
The forfeit and the pledge of fealty, still
Which all flesh pays before the Sovereign Will;
But genial spirit, free as vital air,

Soars high and boundless over sense, and dare

All loose from body, lift the immortal soul

From the snake's coil, to join the perfect whole,

With the new light confirm the High Decree,

་་

The subsequent pages are addressed to those who, not only having seen, are already believers in Magnetism, but especially to those believers who experiencing the wonders of the trance, and with minds starting as it were from slumber at that morning light, have been awakened and aroused from the long lethargy of ages: from darkness, and from dreams, and from delusions; to wonder and to pause, and meditate: to stir new energies within them, to hail a new existence, to see all glorious day brightening before them, to beat well without the expansive fields of eastern lore, to trace the modern speculations, to read, hear, and see, and to shut every sense and look within.

And having raised the mind by deep soliloquy and meditation high into the intellectual spheres, and (if worthy) catching holy light, with new born awe and reverence have bowed, and from mercy drawn the inspiration, worshipping that shrine of which belike they had scant knowledge heretofore. Some such (many may they be!) there are, and on them now we strike the deep responding chords.

My wish and hope are to awaken the public mind up to a higher faith, a holier view of Magnetism, to approach it reverentially as the wise and good of old; with pure hearts and suppli