Pattern of Choice

The Triumph of Dulness (from “The Dunciad” by Alexander Pope)

In vain, in vain,— the all-composing hour
Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the power.
She comes! she comes! the sable throne behold
Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old!
Before her, Fancy’s gilded clouds decay,
And all its varying rainbows die away.
Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,
The meteor drops, and in a flash expires.
As one by one, at dread Medea’s strain,
The sick’ning stars fade off the ethereal plain;
As Argus’ eyes, by Hermes’ wand oppress’d,
Closed one by one to everlasting rest;
Thus at her felt approach, and secret might,
Art after art goes out, and all is night.
See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,
Mountains of casuistry heap’d o’er her head!
Philosophy, that lean’d on heaven before,
Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more.
Physic of Metaphysic begs defence,
And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense!
See Mystery to Mathematics fly!
In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires.
Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine;
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored;
Light dies before thy uncreating word:
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall;
And universal darkness buries all.

What shall happen to art, philosophy, science, mathematics, religion, logic, reason and morality in our world, because you have lived? Will you in your daily affairs move man closer to wisdom or will our sons and daughters have to squint even harder to see the light of truth off in the distance because of the pattern of choice in your lifetime?

Will darkness triumph in your life? Will you allow the petty concerns of the day to dull your heart to the beauty and wonder of life, to the promise of love? Or will you overcome?

2 thoughts on “Pattern of Choice

  1. Joy

    I cannot perceive not overcoming Gregg. I cannot perceive any worldly woe surpassing the wonder of life, the beauty of truth and the ever present promise of love. I have noted in my own experience and from those around me that the “death eaters” depicted in Alexander Pope’s poem come only to those who have fallen prey to a hardened heart.


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