Matthew Arnold - The World and the Quietist lyrics

 "Why, when the world's great mind  Hath finally inclined, Why," you say, Critias, "be debating still?  Why, with these mournful rhymes  Learn'd in more languid climes,  Blame our activity  Who, with such pa**ionate will,  Are what we mean to be?"  Critias, long since, I know  (For Fate decreed it so), Long since the world hath set its heart to live;  Long since, with credulous zeal   It turns life's mighty wheel,  Still doth for labourers send   Who still their labour give,  And still expects an end.  Yet, as the wheel flies round,  With no ungrateful sound Do adverse voices fall on the world's ear.  Deafen'd by his own stir  The rugged labourer  Caught not till then a sense  So glowing and so near   Of his omnipotence.  So, when the feast grew loud  In Susa's palace proud, A white-robed slave stole to the Great King's side.  He spake—the Great King heard;  Felt the slow-rolling word  Swell his attentive soul;  Breathed deeply as it died,   And drain'd his mighty bowl.