Lucretia, Volume V by Edward Bulwer-lytton

And how, O Poet of the sad belief, and eloquence "like ebony, at once dark and splendid [It was said of Tertullian that "his style was like ebony, dark and splendid"]," how couldst thou, august Lucretius, deem it but sweet to behold from the steep the strife of the great sea, or, safe from the peril, gaze on the wrath of the battle, or, serene in the temples of the wise, look afar on the wanderings of human error? Is it so sweet to survey the ills from which thou art delivered? Shall not the strong law of SYMPATHY find thee out, and thy heart rebuke thy philosophy? Not sweet, indeed, can be man's shelter in self when he says to the storm, "I have no bark on the sea; " or to the gods of the battle, "I have no son in the slaughter; " when he smiles unmoved upon Woe, and murmurs, "Weep on, for these eyes know no tears; " when, unappalled, he beholdeth the black deeds of crime, and cries to his conscience, "Thou art calm."

Yet solemn is the sight to him who lives in all life, -- seeks for Nature in the storm, and Providence in the battle; loses self in the woe; probes his heart in the crime; and owns no philosophy that sets him free from the fetters of man. Not in vain do we scan all the contrasts in the large framework of civilized earth if we note "when the dust groweth into hardness, and the clods cleave fast together. " Range, O Art, through all space, clasp together in extremes, shake idle wealth from its lethargy, and bid States look in hovels where the teacher is dumb, and Reason unweeded runs to rot! Bid haughty Intellect pause in its triumph, and doubt if intellect alone can deliver the soul from its tempters! Only that lives uncorrupt which preserves in all seasons the human affections in which the breath of God breathes and is. Go forth to the world, O Art, go forth to the innocent, the guilty, the wise, and the dull; go forth as the still voice of Fate!