“O sacred, wise, and wisdom-giving Plant, Mother of science! now I feel thy power Within me clear, not only to discern Things in their causes, but to trace the ways Of highest agents, deemed however wise. Queen of this Universe! do not believe Those rigid threats of death. Ye shall not die: How should ye? by the fruit? it gives you life To knowledge; by the threatener? look on me, Me who have touched and tasted, yet both live, And life more perfect have attained than Fate Meant me, by venturing higher than my lot. Shall that be shut to Man which to the beast Is open? or will God incense his ire For such a petty trespass, and not praise Rather your dauntless virtue, whom the pain Of death denounced, whatever thing death be, Deterred not from achieving what might lead To happier life, knowledge of good and evil? Of good, how just! of evil⁠—if what is evil Be real, why not known, since easier shunned? God therefore cannot hurt ye, and be just; Not just, not God; not feared then, nor obeyed: Your fear itself of death removes the fear.