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All fitful strange and moody waywardness
Which e'er confused my better spirit, to dwell
Only on moments such as these, dear friends!
-My heart no truer, but my words and ways
More true to it: as Michal, some months hence,
Will say, "this autumn was a pleasant time,"
For some few sunny days; and overlook
Its bleak wind, hankering after pining leaves.
Autumn would fain be sunny; I would look
Liker my nature's truth: and both are frail,
And both beloved, for all our frailty.


Aureole !

Paracelsus. Drop by drop! she is weeping like a


Not so! I am content-more than content;

Nay, autumn wins you best by this its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay:

Look up, sweet Michal, nor esteem the less

Your stained and drooping vines their grapes bow down,
Nor blame those creaking trees bent with their fruit,
That apple-tree with a rare after-birth

Of peeping blooms sprinkled its wealth among!
Then for the winds-what wind that ever raved
Shall vex that ash which overlooks you both,
So proud it wears its berries? Ah, at length,
The old smile meet for her, the lady of this

Sequestered nest!—this kingdom, limited
Alone by one old populous green wall
Tenanted by the ever-busy flies,

Grey crickets and shy lizards and quick spiders,
Each family of the silver-threaded moss-

Which, look through near, this way, and it appears

A stubble-field or a cane-brake, a marsh
Of bulrush whitening in the sun: laugh now!
Fancy the crickets, each one in his house,
Looking out, wondering at the world--or best,
Yon painted snail with his gay shell of dew,
Travelling to see the glossy balls high up
Hung by the caterpillar, like gold lamps.

Michal. In truth we have lived carelessly and well. Paracelsus. And shall, my perfect pair!-each, trust me, born

For the other; nay, your very hair, when mixed,

Is of one hue. For where save in this nook

Shall you two walk, when I am far away,

And wish me prosperous fortune? Stay: that plant
Shall never wave its tangles lightly and softly,

As a queen's languid and imperial arm

Which scatters crowns among her lovers, but you
Shall be reminded to predict to me

Some great success! Ah see, the sun sinks broad
Behind Saint Saviour's: wholly gone, at last!

Festus. Now, Aureole, stay those wandering eyes


You are ours to-night, at least; and while you spoke
Of Michal and her tears, I thought that none
Could willing leave what he so seemed to love:
But that last look destroys my dream-that look
As if, where'er you gazed, there stood a star!
How far was Würzburg with its church and spire
And garden-walls and all things they contain,
From that look's far alighting?


I but spoke

And looked alike from simple joy to see
The beings I love best, shut in so well
From all rude chances like to be my lot,
That, when afar, my weary spirit,-disposed
To lose awhile its care in soothing thoughts
Of them, their pleasant features, looks and words,-
Needs never hesitate, nor apprehend

Encroaching trouble may have reached them too,
Nor have recourse to fancy's busy aid
And fashion even a wish in their behalf
Beyond what they possess already here;
But, unobstructed, may at once forget
Itself in them, assured how well they fare.
Beside, this Festus knows he holds me one
Whom quiet and its charms arrest in vain,

One scarce aware of all the joys I quit,
Too filled with airy hopes to make account
Of soft delights his own heart garners up:
Whereas behold how much our sense of all

That's beauteous proves alike! When Festus learns
That every common pleasure of the world
Affects me as himself; that I have just

As varied appetite for joy derived

From common things; a stake in life, in short,
Like his; a stake which rash pursuit of aims
That life affords not, would as soon destroy ;—
He may convince himself that, this in view,

I shall act well advised. And last, because,

Though heaven and earth and all things were at stake, Sweet Michal must not weep, our parting eve.

Festus. True and the eve is deepening, and we sit As little anxious to begin our talk

As though to-morrow I could hint of it

As we paced arm-in-arm the cheerful town
At sun-dawn; or could whisper it by fits
(Trithemius busied with his class the while)
In that dim chamber where the noon-streaks peer
Half-frightened by the awful tomes around;
Or in some grassy lane unbosom all

From even-blush to midnight: but, to-morrow!
Have I full leave to tell my inmost mind?

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Devise some test of love, some arduous feat
To be performed for you: say on! If night
Be spent the while, the better ! Recall how oft
My wondrous plans and dreams and hopes and fears
Have-never wearied you, oh no!--as I
Recall, and never vividly as now,

Your true affection, born when Einsiedeln
And its green hills were all the world to us;
And still increasing to this night which ends
My further stay at Würzburg. Oh, one day

You shall be very proud! Say on, dear friends!

Festus. In truth? "T is for my proper peace, indeed,

Rather than yours; for vain all projects seem

To stay your course: I said my latest hope
Is fading even now. A story tells

Of some far embassy despatched to win
The favour of an eastern king, and how

The gifts they offered proved but dazzling dust
Shed from the ore-beds native to his clime.
Just so, the value of repose and love,

I meant should tempt you, better far than I
You seem to comprehend; and yet desist

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