What are you doing, young man? Are you so earnest—so given up to literature, science, art, amours? These ostensible realities, politics, points? Your ambition or business, whatever it may be? It is well—Against such I say not a word—I am their poet also; But behold! such swiftly subside—burnt up for religion's sake; For not all matter is fuel to heat, impalpable flame, the essential life of the earth, Any more than such are to religion.
