As weak compared with them, yet felt somehow
A mighty power was brooding, taking shape
Within me; and this lasted till one night
When, as I sate revolving it and more,

A still voice from without said—" See'st thou not,
"Desponding child, whence springs defeat and loss?
"Even from thy strength. Know better: hast thou gazed

Presumptuous on Wisdom's countenance,

"No veil between; and can thy faltering hands

"Pursue as well the toil their earnest blinking, "Whom radiance ne'er distracts, so clear descries? "If thou wouldst share their fortune, choose their eyes, "Unfed by splendour. Let each task present "Its petty good to thee. Waste not thy gifts "In profitless waiting for the gods' descent,

"But have some idol of thine own to dress

"With their array. Know, not for knowing's sake,

"But to become a star to men for ever.

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Know, for the gain it gets, the praise it brings,

"The wonder it inspires, the love it breeds.
"Look one step onward, and secure that step."
And I smiled as one never smiles but once;

Then first discovering my aim's extent,

Which sought to comprehend the works of God,
And God himself, and all God's intercourse

With our own mind; and how such show'd beside
My fellow's studies, whose true worth I saw,
But smiled not, well aware who stood by me.
And softer came the voice—" There is a way-
""T is hard for flesh to tread therein, imbued
“With weakness—hopeless, if indulgence first
"Have ripen'd inborn sins to strength: wilt thou
"Adventure for my sake and for thy kind's,

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Apart for all reward ?" And last it breathed— "Be happy, my good soldier; I am by thee,

"Be sure, even to the end!' I answer'd not,

Knowing him. As he spoke, I was endued
With comprehension and a steadfast will;

And when he ceased, my fate was seal'd for ever.
If there took place no special change in me,
How comes it all things wore a different hue
Thenceforward?--pregnant with vast consequence—
Teeming with grand results—loaded with fate;

So that when quailing at the mighty range

Of secret truths yearning for birth, I haste
To contemplate undazzled some one truth,
Its bearings and effects alone, at once
What was a speck expands into a star,
Demanding life to be explored alone—
Till I near craze. I go to prove my soul !
I see my way as birds their trackless way—
I shall arrive! what time, what circuit first,
I ask not: but unless God send his hail
Or blinding fire-balls, sleet, or stifling snow,
In some time—his good time—I shall arrive:
He guides me and the bird. In his good time!
Mich. Vex him no further, Festus; it is so!
Fest. Just thus you answer ever. This would hold
Were it the trackless air and not a path
Inviting you, distinct with footprints yet

Of many a mighty spirit gone that way.
have purer views, for aught I know;

You may
But they were famous in their day—the proofs
Remain. At least accept the light they lend.

Par. Their light! the sum of all is briefly this: They labour'd after their own fashion; the fruits

Are best seen in a dark and groaning earth,

Given over to a blind and endless strife

With evils their best lore cannot abate.

No; I reject and spurn them utterly,

And all they teach. Shall I still sit beside

Their dry wells, with white lips and filmed eye,
While in the distance heaven is blue above

Mountains where sleep the unsunn'd tarns?

Fest.

As strong delusions have prevail'd ere now:
Men have set out as gallantly to seek
Their ruin; I have heard of such—yourself

Avow all hitherto have fail'd and fallen.

And yet

Mich. Nay, Festus, when but as the pilgrims faint For the drear way, do you expect to see

Their city dawn amid the clouds afar!

Par. Ay, sounds it not like some old well-known tale?

For me, I estimate their works and them

So rightly, that at times I well nigh dream

I too have spent a life the selfsame way—
Tread once again an old life's course.

I perish'd in an arrogant self-reliance

Perchance

An age ago; and in that act, a prayer

For one more chance went up so earnest—so
Imbued with better light let in by Death—
So free from all past sin—that it was heard . . .
That life was blotted out—not so completely
But scattered wrecks enough remain to wake
Dim memories; as now, when once more seems
The goal in sight again: all which is foolish
Indeed, and only means—the form I bear,
The earth I tread, are not more clear to me.
Fest. And who am I to challenge and dispute

That clear belief? I will devest all fear.

...

Mich. Then Aureole is God's commissary! he shall Be great and grand—and all for us!

Par.

No, sweet!

Not great or grand. If I can serve mankind

'Tis well—but there our intercourse must end:

I never will be served by those I serve.

Fest. Look well to this; here is a plague-spot, veil it,

Disguise it how you will: 't is true, you utter
This scorn while by our side and loving us—

'Tis but a spot as yet; but it will break