In thy success, as thou! Let our God's praise
Go bravely through the world at last! What care
Through me or thee? I feel thy breath. . . why, tears?
Tears in the darkness-and from thee to me?

Par. Love me henceforth, Aprile, while I learn
To love; and, merciful God, forgive us both!
We wake at length from weary dreams; but both
Have slept in fairy-land: though dark and drear
Appears the world before us, we no less
Wake with our wrists and ancles jewelled still.
I, too, have sought to KNOW as thou to LOVE-
Excluding love as thou refusedst knowledge.
Still thou hast beauty, and I power. We wake:
What penance canst devise for both of us?

Apr. I hear thee faintly . . . the thick darkness! Even Thine eyes are hid. "Tis as I knew: I speak,

And now I die. But I have seen thy face!

O, poet, think of me, and sing of me!
But to have seen thee, and to die so soon!
Par. Die not, Aprile: we must never part.
Are we not halves of one dissevered world,
Whom this strange chance unites once more?
Till thou, the lover, know; and I, the knower,
Love-until both are saved. Aprile, hear!
We will accept our gains, and use them-now!
God, he will die upon my breast! Aprile!

Part? never!

Apr. To speak but once, and die! yet by his side. Hush! hush!

Ha! go you ever girt about

With phantoms, powers? I have created such,

But these seem real as I!

Par.

Whom can you see

Through the accursed darkness?
Apr.

Stay; I know,

I know them: who should know them well as I ?-
White brows, lit up with glory; poets all!

Par. Let him but live, and I have my reward!
Apr. Yes; I see now-God is the PERFECT POET,
Who in creation, acts his own conceptions.
Shall man refuse to be aught less than God?
Man's weakness is his glory-for the strength
Which raises him to heaven and near God's self,
Came spite of it: God's strength his glory is,
For thence came with our weakness sympathy
Which brought God down to earth, a man like us.
Had you but told me this at first! ... Hush! hush
Par. Live! for my sake, because of my great sin,
To help my brain, oppressed by these wild words

And their deep import.

I have a quiet home for us, and friends.
Michal shall smile on you

Live! 'tis not too late :

Hear you? Lean thus,

Crown me? I am not one of you!

And breathe my breath: I shall not lose one word
Of all your speech-no little word, Aprile!

Apr. No, no

"Tis he, the king, you seek. I am not one

Par. Give me thy spirit, at least! Let me love too!

I have attained, and now I may depart.

III.-PARACELSUS.

SCENE-A chamber in the house of Paracelsus at Basil. 1526.

PARACELSUS, FESTUS.

Par. Heap logs, and let the blaze laugh out!
Fest.

True, true!

'Tis very fit that all, time, chance, and change
Have wrought since last we sate thus, face to face,
And soul to soul-all cares, far-looking fears,
Vague apprehensions, all vain fancies bred
By your long absense, should be cast away,
Forgotten in this glad unhoped renewal
Of our affections.

Which witnesses your own and Michal's love!
I bade you not spare that! Forget alone
The honours and the glories, and the rest,
You seem disposed to tell profusely out.

Fest. Nay, even your honours, in a sense, I waive
The wondrous Paracelsus-Life's dispenser,

Fate's commissary, idol of the schools,

And Courts, shall be no more than Aureole still-
Still Aureole and my friend, as when we parted
Some twenty years ago, and I restrained
As I best could the promptings of my spirit,
Which secretly advanced you, from the first,
To the pre-eminent rank which, since, your own
Adventurous ardour, nobly triumphing,

Has won for you.

Par.

Yes, yes; and Michal's face

Still wears that quiet and peculiar light,

Like the dim circlet floating round a pearl?

Fest. Just so.

Par.
And yet her calm sweet countenance,
Though saintly, was not sad; for she would sing
Alone Does she still sing alone, bird-like,

Her carols dropt
In flakes through that old leafy bower built under
The sunny wall at Würzburg, from her lattice
Among the trees above, while I, unseen,

Not dreaming you are near?

Sate conning some rare scroll from Tritheim's shelves,
Much wondering notes so simple could divert

My mind from study. Those were happy days!
Respect all such as sing when all alone.

Fest. Scarcely alone-her children, you may guess,
Are wild beside her

Par.

Ah, those children quite

Unsettle the pure picture in my mind:

A girl-she was so perfect, so distinct

No change, no change! Not but this added grace
May blend and harmonize with its compeers,
And Michal may become her motherhood;
But 'tis a change—and I detest all change,
And most a change in aught I loved long since!
So, Michal you have said she thinks of
Fest. O very proud will Michal be of you'
Imagine how we sate, long winter-nights
Scheming and wondering-shaping your presumed
Adventures, or devising their reward;

me

Shutting out fear with all the strength of hope.
Though it was strange how, even when most secure

In our domestic peace, a certain dim

And flitting shade could sadden all; it seemed
A restlessness of heart, a silent yearning,
A sense of something wanting, incomplete—
Not to be put in words, perhaps avoided
By mute consent-but, said or unsaid, felt
To point to one so loved and so long lost.

And then the hopes rose and shut out the fears—
How you would laugh should I recount them now!
I still predicted your return at last,

With gifts beyond the greatest vaunt of all,
All Tritheim's wondrous troop; did one of whicn
Attain renown by any chance, I smiled-
As well aware of who would prove his peer.
Michal was sure some woman long ere this,
As beautiful as you were sage, had loved.
Par. Far-seeing, truly, to discern so much
In the fantastic projects and day-dreams
Of a raw, restless boy!

45

Fest.

Say, one whose sunrise Well warranted our faith in this full noon! ^

Can I forget the anxious voice which said,

"Festus, have thoughts like these e'er shaped themselves "In other brains than mine-have their possessors

"Existed in like circumstance-were they weak

"As I-or ever constant from the first,

66

Despising youth's allurements, and rejecting

"As spider-films the shackles I endure?

"Is there hope for me?"--and I answered grave
As an acknowledged elder, calmer, wiser,
More gifted mortal. O you must remember,
For all your glorious

Par.

Glorious? ay, this hair,

These hands-nay, touch them, they are mine!
With all the said recallings, times when thus
To lay them by your own ne'er turned you pale,
As now. Most glorious, are they not?

Fest.

Recall

Why... why.

Something must be subtracted from success

So wide, no doubt. He would be scrupulous, truly,
Who should object such drawbacks. Still, still, Aureole,
You are changed-very changed! "Twere losing nothing
To look well to it: you must not be stolen

From the enjoyment of your well-won meed.

Par. My friend! you seek my pleasure, past a doubt: By talking, not of me, but of yourself,

You will best gain your point.

Fest.
Have I not said
All touching Michal and my children? Sure
You know, by this, full well how Aennchen looks
Gravely, while one disparts her thick brown hair;
And Aureole's glee when some stray gannet builds
Amid the birch-trees by the lake. Small hope
Have I that he will honour, the wild imp,
His namesake! Sigh not! 'tis too much to ask
That all we love should reach the same proud fate.
But you are very kind to humour me

By showing interest in my quiet life;

You, who of old could never tame yourself

To tranquil pleasures, must at heart despise

Par. Festus, strange secrets are let out by Death,
Who blabs so oft the follies of this world:
And I am Death's familiar, as you know.
I helped a man to die, some few weeks since,
Warped even from his go-cart to one end-
The living on princes' smiles, reflected from
A mighty herd of favourites. No mean trick

He left untried; and truly well nigh wormed
All traces of God's finger out of him.

Then died, grown old; and just an hour before—
Having lain long with blank and soulless eyes-
He sate up suddenly, and with natural voice
Said, that in spite of thick air and closed doors
God told him it was June; and he knew well,
Without such telling, harebells grew in June ;
And all that kings could ever give or take
Would not be precious as those blooms to him.
Just so, allowing I am passing wise,

It seems to me much worthier argument

Why pansies,* eyes that laugh, bear beauty's prize
From violets, eyes that dream-(your Michal's choice) —
Than all fools find to wonder at in me,

Or in my fortunes: and be very sure

I

say this from no prurient restlessness-
No self-complacency-itching to turn,
Vary, and view its pleasure from all points,
And, in this matter, willing other men
Should argue and demonstrate to itself
The realness of the very joy it tastes.
What joy is better than the news of friends
Whose memories were a solace to me oft,
As mountain-baths to wild-fowls in their flight ?
Yes, ofter than you wasted thought on me
If you were sage, and rightly valued bliss!
But there's no taming nor repressing hearts:
God knows I need such !-So you heard me speak?
Fest. Speak? when?

Par.
When but this morning at my class?
There was noise and crowd enough. I saw you not.
Surely you know I am engaged to fill

The chair here ?-that 'tis part of my proud fate
To lecture to as many thick-sculled youths

As please, each day, to throng the theatre,
To my great reputation, and no small
Danger of Basil's benches, long unused
To crack beneath such honour?

Fest.

I was there;

I mingled with the throng: shall I avow

I had small care to listen ?-too intent

On gathering from the murmurs of the crowd
A full corroboration of my hopes!

What can I learn about your powers? but they
Know, care for nought beyond your actual state-

Citrinula (flammula) herba Paracelso multùm familiaris. DORN.