Canto CXII
Who loves not knowledge? Who shall railAgainst her beauty? May she mixWith men and prosper! Who shall fixHer pillars? Let her work prevail.
But on her forehead sits a fire:She sets her forward countenanceAnd leaps into the future chance,Submitting all things to desire.
Half-grown as yet, a child, and vain—She cannot fight the fear of death.What is she, cut from love and faith,But some wild Pallas from the brain
Of Demons? fiery-hot to burstAll barriers in her onward raceFor power. Let her know her place;She is the second, not the first.
A higher hand must make her mild.If all be not in vain; and guideHer footsteps, moving side by sideWith wisdom, like the younger child:
For she is earthly of the mind,But wisdom heavenly of the soul.O, friend, who camest to thy goalSo early, leaving me behind,
I would the great world grew like thee,Who grewest not alone in powerAnd knowledge, but from hour to hourIn reverence and in charity.