Forgotten in this glad unhoped renewal Of our affections. Par. Oh, omit not aught Which witnesses your own and Michal's love! wave. And Courts, shall be no more than Aureole still- 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, Not dreaming you are near? 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, Sate conning soine rare scroll from Tritheim's shelves, Much wondering notes so simple could divert My mind from study. Those were happy days! Fest. Scarcely alone-her children, you may guess, Are wild beside her Par. ... Ah, those children quite Unsettle the pure picture in my mind: No change, no change! Not but this added grace ... Fest. O very proud will Michal be of you! Shutting out fear with all the strength of hope. In our domestic peace, a certain dim And flitting shade could sadden all; it seemed How you would laugh should I recount them now! I still predicted your return at last, With gifts beyond the greatest vaunt of all, 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, "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! Recall 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. Why. why.. ... Something must be subtracted from success So wide, no doubt. He would be scrupulous, truly, 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. Have I not said Fest. His namesake! Sigh not! 'tis too much to ask 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 . A mighty herd of favourites. No mean trick He left untried; and truly wellnigh wormed Then died, grown old; and just an hour before- 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 restlessnessNo self-complacency-itching to turn, Vary, and view its pleasure from all points, * Citrinula (flammula) herba Paracelso multùm familiaris. DORM |