No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope <br />Soon shall I now before my God appear, <br />By him to be acquitted, as I hope; <br />By him to be condemned, as I fear.-- <br /> <br /> <br />REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE <br /> <br />Lynx amid moles! had I stood by thy bed, <br />Be of good cheer, meek soul! I would have said: <br />I see a hope spring from that humble fear. <br />All are not strong alike through storms to steer <br />Right onward. What though dread of threatened death <br />And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath <br />Inconstant to the truth within thy heart? <br />That truth, from which, through fear, thou twice didst start, <br />Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife, <br />Or not so vital as to claim thy life: <br />And myriads had reached Heaven, who never knew <br />Where lay the difference 'twixt the false and true! <br /> <br />Ye, who secure 'mid trophies not your own, <br />Judge him who won them when he stood alone, <br />And proudly talk of recreant Berengare-- <br />O first the age, and then the man compare! <br />That age how dark! congenial minds how rare! <br />No host of friends with kindred zeal did burn! <br />No throbbing hearts awaited his return! <br />Prostrate alike when prince and peasant fell, <br />He only disenchanted from the spell, <br />Like the weak worm that gems the starless night, <br />Moved in the scanty circlet of his light: <br />And was it strange if he withdrew the ray <br />That did but guide the night-birds to their prey? <br /> <br />The ascending day-star with a bolder eye <br />Hath lit each dew-drop on our trimmer lawn! <br />Yet not for this, if wise, will we decry <br />The spots and struggles of the timid Dawn; <br />Lest so we tempt the approaching Noon to scorn <br />The mists and painted vapours of our Morn.<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-suggested-by-the-last-words-of-berengarius-ob-anno-dom-1088/
