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? Par. Festus, let my hand This hand, lie in your own, my own true friend! Fest. And this was Paracelsus! |