THE NEW WINE
271
philosophies ,
n
doubt
they
arise ,
with
doubt
they
thrive , and by doubt they are urged on ; Hope , like a
will- o'-the-wisp ,
dances
before
them ,
leading
them
through
marsh
and
mire , down
dale and o'er hill ,
deep through
the
frozen
forest, and
the
broad sun
scorched plain , over seas and oceans , over continents
and worlds , far,
far
through
universes and systems
,
past stars
,
past comets and suns
,
deep into the depths
of
unutterable
mystery
;
and there
through
the æons
midst
,
the birth
of
worlds
,
in
the very womb
of
Time
sunk
on
some
fleeting asteroid
,
is
the
aspirant
,
"
O
Hope
!
O
Hope
!
Where
hast thou led
me
,
ever
near
me
,
never with me
?
”
“
On
,
on
,
O
weary one
,
past
man
,
past gods
,
on
,
on
to
the
rim
of
Time
”
:
then
from
the
parched lips bursts
the echoing cry
,
“
Ag
nosco
,
Agnosco
."
The
hyperbola
of
Time
,
the
parabola
of
Infinity
,
lie
far
to
the
north
in
the hyperborean
regions
of
the
Unknowable
.
Knowledge
is
but
a
ring
smitten into
the face
of
the waters
,
around
it
grows
another ring
,
the
ring
of
a
greater
knowledge
,
around
that
yet
another
,
it
is
the
ring
of
a
higher
knowledge
still
,
countless rings upon rings
surround
rings
;
then
,
as
he
has reached
some far distant
one
,
man
in
his pre
sumption
shouts
,
“
I
have found
God
”
;
blinded
by
the
glittering
projection
of
circles
,
dazzled
by
the
greater brilliancy
of
the jewels
in
their setting
;
“
He
has found God
.”
“
No
,
no
,
O
deluded
one
!
not even
the ring
that fits
the
little
finger
of
God
,
hast thou
discovered
,
and
,
if
thou hadst
,
it
and its God who
wears
it
would
be
but the smallest gem
in
the ring
of
still some other God
,
perhaps even
of
some other man
,
who worships yet some
other God
,
who himself
is
but
again some gem
in
the endless
ring
of
Eternity
.