[Footnote 2: Speaking of the tides, Pomponius
Mela, in his treatise, ‘De Situ Orbis’,
says,
“Either the world is a great animal,
or,” etc.]
[Footnote 3: Balzac, in substance; I do not remember
the words.]
[Footnote 4:
“Florem putares nare per liquidum
aethera.”
’P. Commire’.]
* * * *
*
‘Oinos.’
Pardon, Agathos, the weakness of a spirit
new-fledged with
immortality!
‘Agathos.’
You have spoken nothing, my Oinos, for
which pardon is to be demanded.
Not even here is knowledge a thing of
intuition. For wisdom, ask of
the angels freely, that it may be given!
‘Oinos.’
But in this existence I dreamed that I
should be at once cognizant of
all things, and thus at once happy in
being cognizant of all.
‘Agathos.’
Ah, not in knowledge is happiness, but
in the acquisition of
knowledge! In forever knowing, we
are forever blessed; but to know
all, were the curse of a fiend.
‘Oinos.’
But does not The Most High know all?
‘Agathos’.
That (since he is The Most Happy)
must be still the one thing
unknown even to HIM.
‘Oinos.’
But, since we grow hourly in knowledge,
must not at last all things
be known?
‘Agathos.’
Look down into the abysmal distances!—attempt
to force the gaze down the multitudinous vistas
of the stars, as we sweep slowly through them thus—and
thus—and thus! Even the spiritual vision,
is it not at all points arrested by the continuous
golden walls of the universe?—the walls
of the myriads of the shining bodies that mere number
has appeared to blend into unity?
‘Oinos’.
I clearly perceive that the infinity of
matter is no dream.
‘Agathos’.
There are no dreams in Aidenn—but
it is here whispered that, of this infinity of matter,
the sole purpose is to afford infinite springs
at which the soul may allay the thirst to know
which is forever unquenchable within it—since
to quench it would be to extinguish the soul’s
self. Question me then, my Oinos, freely and without
fear. Come! we will leave to the left the loud
harmony of the Pleiades, and swoop outward from
the throne into the starry meadows beyond Orion, where,
for pansies and violets, and heart’s-ease, are
the beds of the triplicate and triple-tinted suns.
‘Oinos’.
And now, Agathos, as we proceed, instruct
me!—speak to me in the earth’s
familiar tones! I understand not what you hinted
to me just now of the modes or of the methods of
what during mortality, we were accustomed to call
Creation. Do you mean to say that the Creator
is not God?
‘Agathos’.
