Par. Their light! the sum of all is briefly this: They laboured, and grew famous; and the fruits Are best seen in a dark and groaning earth, Given over to a blind and endless strife
With evils, which of all your Gods abates? No; I reject and spurn them utterly,
And all they teach. Shall I still sit beside Their dry wells, with a white lip and filmed eye, While in the distance heaven is blue above Mountains where sleep the unsunned tarns? Fest.
As strong delusions have prevailed ere now: Men have set out as gallantly to seek Their ruin; I have heard of such-yourself
Avow all hitherto have failed and fallen.
Mich. Nay, Festus, when but as the pilgrims faint Through the drear way, do you expect to see
Their city dawn afar amid the clouds?
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 almost dream
I too have spent a life the sages' way,
And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance
I perished in an arrogant self-reliance
An age ago; and in that act, a prayer
For one more chance went up so earnest, so Instinct with better light let in by Death, That life was blotted out-not so completely But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,
Dim memories; as now, when seems once more The goal in sight again: all which, indeed, Is foolish, and only means-the flesh I wear, The earth I tread, are not more clear to me Than my belief, explained to you or no.
Fest. And who am I to challenge and dispute That clear belief? I put away all fear.
Mich. Then Aureole is God's commissary! he shall Be great and grand-and all for us!
No, sweet! Not great and 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, here, Disguise it how you may! 'Tis true, you utter This scorn while by our side and loving us ; 'Tis but a spot as yet; but it will break
Into a hideous blotch if overlooked.
How can that course be safe which from the first Produces carelessness to human love?
It seems you have abjured the helps which men Who overpass their kind, as you would do, Have humbly sought—I dare not thoroughly probe This matter, lest I learn too much let be, That popular praise would little instigate Your efforts, nor particular approval Reward you; put reward aside; alone You shall go forth upon your arduous task, None shall assist you, none partake your toil,
None share your triumph-still you must retain Some one to cast your glory on, to share Your rapture with. Were I elect like you,
I would encircle me with love, and raise
A rampart of my fellows; it should seem Impossible for me to fail, so watched
By gentle friends who made my cause their own They should ward off Fate's envy-the great gift, Extravagant when claimed by me alone, Being so a gift to them as well as me.
If danger daunted me or ease seduced,
How calmly their sad eyes should gaze reproach! Mich. O Aureole, can I sing when all alone, Without first calling, in my fancy, both
To listen by my side-even I! And you? Do you not feel this?—say that you feel this!
Par. I feel 'tis pleasant that my aims, at length Allowed their weight, should be supposed to need A further strengthening in these goodly helps! My course allures for its own sake-its sole Intrinsic worth; and ne'er shall boat of mine Adventure forth for gold and apes at once. Your sages say, "if human, therefore weak: If weak, more need to give myself entire To my pursuit; and by its side, all else No matter! I deny myself but little In waiving all assistance save its own—
Would there were some real sacrifice to make! Your friends the sages threw their joys away, While I must be content with keeping mine.
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. (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 you ? Whom should I love but both of you?
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
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