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All this was hid from me: as one by one
Despair? The power I sought for man, seemed God's.
A strange adventure made me know, one sin
And as the poor melodious wretch disburthened
Power, and with much power, always much more love;
And earnest for new power to set love free.
I learned this, and supposed the whole was learned:
On my real knowledge, and I hated them-
To prosper in some better sphere: and why?
In ill-success; to sympathize, be proud
Their error, upward tending all though weak,
To drink the life-springs, beamless thence itself—
Meanwhile, I have done well, though not all well.
You understand me? I have said enough?
Festus, let my hand
This hand, lie in your own, my own true friend!
Fest. And this was Paracelsus!