Something must be subtracted from success
So wide, no doubt. He would be scrupulous, truly, Who should object such drawbacks. Still, still, Aureole, You are changed-very changed! 'Twere losing nothing To look well to it: you must not be stolen
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
All touching Michal and my children?
You know, by this, full well how Aennchen looks
Gravely, while one disparts her thick brown hair;
And Aureole's glee when some stray gannet builds
Amid the birch-trees by the lake. Small hope
Have I that he will honour, the wild imp,
His namesake! Sigh not! 'tis too much to ask
That all we love should reach the same proud fate.
But 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 . . .
Par. Festus, strange secrets are let out by Death,
Who blabs so oft the follies of this world:
And I am Death's familiar, as you know.
I helped a man to die, some few weeks since,
Warped even from his go-cart to one end-
The living on princes' smiles, reflected from
A mighty herd of favourites. No mean trick
He left untried; and truly well nigh wormed
All traces of God's finger out of him.
Then died, grown old; and just an hour before-
Having lain long with blank and soulless eyes-
He sate up suddenly, and with natural voice
Said, that in spite of thick air and closed doors
God told him it was June; and he knew well,
Without such telling, harebells grew in June ;
And all that kings could ever give or take
Would not be precious as those blooms to him.
Just so, allowing I am passing wise,
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
say this from no prurient restlessness—
No self-complacency-itching to turn,
Vary, and view its pleasure from all points,
And, in this matter, willing other men
Should argue and demonstrate to itself
The realness of the very joy it tastes.
What joy is better than the news of friends
Whose memories were a solace to me oft,
As mountain-baths to wild fowls in their flight?
Yes, ofter than you wasted thought on me
* Citrinula (flammula) herba Paracelso multùm familiaris. DORN.
If you were sage, and rightly valued bliss!
But there's no taming nor repressing hearts:
God knows I need such!-So you heard me speak?
Fest. Speak? when?
When but this morning at my class? There was noise and crowd enough. I saw you not. Surely you know I am engaged to fill
The chair here ?-that 'tis part of my proud fate
To lecture to as many thick-sculled youths
As please, each day, to throng the theatre,
To my great reputation, and no small
Danger of Basil's benches, long unused
To crack beneath such honour?
I mingled with the throng: shall I avow
I had small care to listen ?-too intent
On gathering from the murmurs of the crowd
A full corroboration of my hopes!
What can I learn about your powers? but they
Know, care for nought beyond your actual state—
Your actual value; and yet worship you!
Those various natures whom you sway as one!
But ere I go, be sure I shall attend . . .
Par. Stop, o' God's name: the thing's by no means yet
Past remedy! Shall I read this morning's work
-At least in substance? Nought so worth the gaining
As an apt scholar! Thus then, with all due
Precision and emphasis-(you, besides, are clearly
Guiltless of understanding a whit more
I charge you, if 't be so! for I forget
Much-and what laughter should be like! No less,
However, I forego that luxury,
Since it alarms the friend who brings it back.
True, laughter like my own must echo strange
To thinking men; a smile were better far-
So make me smile! If the exulting look
You wore but now be smiling, 'tis so long
Since I have smiled! Alas, such smiles are born
Alone of hearts like yours, or shepherds old
Of ancient time, whose eyes, calm as their flocks,
Saw in the stars mere garnishry of heaven,
In earth a stage for altars, nothing more.
Never change, Festus: I say, never change,!
Fest. My God, if he be wretched after all!
Par. When last we parted, Festus, you declared,
-Or did your Michal's soft lips whisper words
I have preserved ? She told me she believed
I should succeed (meaning, that in the search
I then engaged in, I should meet success),
And yet be wretched: now, she augured false.
Fest. Thank heaven! but you spoke strangely! could
To think bare apprehension lest your friend,
Dazzled by your resplendent course, might find
Henceforth less sweetness in his own, awakes
Such earnest mood in you? Fear not, dear friend,
That I shall leave you, inwardly repining
Your lot was not my own!
For ever! gull who may, they will be blind!
They will not look nor think—'tis nothing new
In them; but surely he is not of them!
My Festus, do you know, I reckoned, you—
Though all beside were sand-blind-you, my friend,
Would look at me, once close, with piercing eye,
Untroubled by the false glare that confounds
A weaker vision; would remain serene,
Though singular, amid a gaping throng.
I feared you, or had come, sure, long ere this,
To Einsiedeln. Well, error has no end,
And Rhasis is a sage, and Basil boasts
A tribe of wits, and I am wise and blest
Past all dispute! "Tis vain to fret at it.
I have vowed long since that my worshippers
Shall owe to their own deep sagacity
All further information, good or bad:
And little risk my reputation runs,
Unless perchance the glance now searching me
Be fixed much longer-for it seems to spell,
Dimly, the characters a simpler man
Might read distinct enough. Old eastern books
Say, the fallen prince of morning some short space
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