Fest. But do not cut yourself from human weal? You cannot thrive-a man that dares affect
To spend his life in service to his kind, For no reward of theirs, nor bound to them By any tie; nor do so, Aureole! No-
There are strange punishments for such. Give up (Although no visible good flow thence) some part Of the glory to another; hiding thus,
Even from yourself, that all is for yourself. Say, say almost to God-"I have done all "For her—not for myself!"
Was to rejoice in my success like Whom should I love but both of you?
Fest. But know this, you, that 'tis no wish of mine You should abjure the lofty claims you make ; Although I can no longer seek, indeed, To overlook the truth, that there will be A monstrous spectacle upon the earth, Beneath the pleasant sun, among the trees: -A being knowing not what love is. Hear me ! You are endowed with faculties which bear Annexed to them as 'twere a dispensation To summon meaner spirits to do their will, And gather round them at their need; inspiring Such with a love themselves can never feel- Passionless 'mid their passionate votaries. I know not if you joy in this or no,
Or ever dream that common men can live On objects you prize lightly, but which make Their heart's sole treasure: the affections seem Beauteous at most to you, which we must taste Or die and this strange quality accords,
I know not how, with you; sits well upon That luminous brow, though in another it scowls An eating brand-a shame. I dare not judge you : The rules of right and wrong thus set aside, There's no alternative-I own you one
Of higher order, under other laws
Than bind us, therefore, curb not one bold glance! 'Tis best aspire. Once mingled with us all
Mich. Stay with us, Aureole! cast those hopes away, And stay with us! An angel warns me, too, Man should be humble; you are very proud: And God, dethroned, has doleful plagues for such! He warns me not to dread a quick repulse, Nor slow defeat, but a complete success!
You will find all you seek, and perish so!
Par. (After a pause.) Are these the barren first fruits
Is love like this the natural lot of all?
How many years of pain might one such hour O'erbalance? Dearest Michal, dearest Festus, What shall I say, if not that I desire
To merit this your love; and will, dear friends, In swerving nothing from my first resolves. See, the great moon! and ere the mottled owls
Were wide awake, I was to go. It seems You acquiesce at last in all save this- If I am like to compass what I seek By the untried career I choose: and then, If that career, making but small account Of much of life's delight, will yet retain Sufficient to sustain my soul-for thus I understand these fond fears just expressed. And first; the lore you praise and I neglect, The labours and the precepts of old time, I have not slightly disesteemed. But, friends, Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise From outward things, whate'er you may believe: There is an inmost centre in us all,
Where truth abides in fulness; and around Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in, This perfect, clear perception-which is truth; A baffling and perverting carnal mesh
Blinds it, and makes all error: and, “to know' Rather consists in opening out a way Whence the imprisoned splendour may escape, Than in effecting entry for a light Supposed to be without. Watch narrowly The demonstration of a truth, its birth,
And you trace back the effluence to its spring And source within us, where broods radiance vast,
To be elicited ray by ray, as chance
Shall favour chance-for hitherto, your sage
Even as he knows not how those beams are born,
As little knows he what unlocks their fount;
And men have oft grown old among their books To die, case-hardened in their ignorance,
Whose careless youth had promised what long years Of unremitted labour ne'er performed :
While, contrary, it has chanced some idle day, That autumn loiterers just as fancy-free
As the midges in the sun, have oft given vent To truth-produced mysteriously as cape Of cloud grown out of the invisible air. Hence, may not truth be lodged alike in all, The lowest as the highest? some slight film The interposing bar which binds it up, And makes the idiot, just as makes the sage Some film removed, the happy outlet whence Truth issues proudly? See this soul of ours! How it strives weakly in the child, is loosed In manhood, clogged by sickness, back compelled By age and waste, set free at last by death: Why is it, flesh enthralls it or enthrones? What is this flesh we have to penetrate?
Oh, not alone when life flows still do truth And power emerge, but also when strange chance Ruffles its current; in unused conjuncture, When sickness breaks the body-hunger, watching, Excess, or languor-oftenest death's approach— Peril, deep joy, or woe. One man shall crawl Through life, surrounded with all stirring things, Unmoved-and he goes mad; and from the wreck
Of what he was, by his wild talk alone, You first collect how great a spirit he hid. Therefore, set free the soul alike in all, Discovering the true laws by which the flesh Bars in the spirit! We may not be doomed To cope with seraphs, but at least the rest Shall cope with us. Make no more giants, God!
But elevate the race at once! We ask
To put forth just our strength, our human strength, All starting fairly, all equipped alike, Gifted alike, all eagle-eyed, true-hearted- See if we cannot beat thy angels yet! Such is my task. I go to gather this
The sacred knowledge, here and there dispersed
About the world, long lost or never found. And why should I be sad, or lorn of hope? Why ever make man's good distinct from God's? Or, finding they are one, why dare mistrust? Who shall succeed if not one pledged like me? Mine is no mad attempt to build a world Apart from His, like those who set themselves To find the nature of the spirit they bore,
And, taught betimes that all their gorgeous dreams Were only born to vanish in this life, Refused to fit them to this narrow sphere,
But chose to figure forth another world
And other frames meet for their vast desires,- Still, all a dream! Thus was life scorned; but life Shall yet be crowned: twine amaranth! I am priest!
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