Charitysitteth on a fair hill-top, blessing far and near,But her garments drop ambrosia, chiefly, on the violets around her:She gladdeneth indeed the map-like scene, stretching to the verge of the horizon,For her angel face is lustrous and beloved, even as the moon in heaven:But the light of that beatific vision gloweth in serener concentrationThe nearer to her heart, and nearer to her home,—that hill-top where she sitteth:Therefore is she kind unto her kin, yearning in affection on her neighbours,Giving gifts to those around, who know and love her well.But the counterfeit of charity, an hypocrite of earth, not a grace of heaven,Seeketh not to bless at home, for her nearer aspect is ill-favoured:Therefore hideth she for shame, counting that pride humility,And none of those around her hearth are gladdened by her gifts:Rather, with an overreaching zeal, flingeth she her bounty to the stranger,And scattered prodigalities abroad compensate for meanness in her home:For benefits showered on the distant shine in unmixed beauty,So that even she may reap their undiscerning praise:Therefore native want hath pined, where foreign need was fattened;Woman been crushed by the tyrannous hand that upheld the flag of liberality;Poverty been prisoned up and starved, by hearts that are maudlin upon crime;And freeborn babes been manacled by men, who liberate the sturdy slave.
Charitysitteth on a fair hill-top, blessing far and near,
But her garments drop ambrosia, chiefly, on the violets around her:
She gladdeneth indeed the map-like scene, stretching to the verge of the horizon,
For her angel face is lustrous and beloved, even as the moon in heaven:
But the light of that beatific vision gloweth in serener concentration
The nearer to her heart, and nearer to her home,—that hill-top where she sitteth:
Therefore is she kind unto her kin, yearning in affection on her neighbours,
Giving gifts to those around, who know and love her well.
But the counterfeit of charity, an hypocrite of earth, not a grace of heaven,
Seeketh not to bless at home, for her nearer aspect is ill-favoured:
Therefore hideth she for shame, counting that pride humility,
And none of those around her hearth are gladdened by her gifts:
Rather, with an overreaching zeal, flingeth she her bounty to the stranger,
And scattered prodigalities abroad compensate for meanness in her home:
For benefits showered on the distant shine in unmixed beauty,
So that even she may reap their undiscerning praise:
Therefore native want hath pined, where foreign need was fattened;
Woman been crushed by the tyrannous hand that upheld the flag of liberality;
Poverty been prisoned up and starved, by hearts that are maudlin upon crime;
And freeborn babes been manacled by men, who liberate the sturdy slave.
Policycounselleth a gift, given wisely and in season,And policy afterwards approveth it, for great is the influence of gifts.The lover, unsmiled upon before, is welcome for his jewelled bauble;The righteous cause without a fee, must yield to bounteous guilt:How fair is a man in thine esteem, whose just discrimination seeketh thee,And so, discerning merit, honoureth it with gifts!Yea, let the cause appear sufficient, and the motive clear and unsuspicious,As given to one who cannot help, or proving honest thanks,There liveth not one among a million, who is proof against the charm of liberality,And flattery, that boon of praise, hath power with the wisest.
Policycounselleth a gift, given wisely and in season,
And policy afterwards approveth it, for great is the influence of gifts.
The lover, unsmiled upon before, is welcome for his jewelled bauble;
The righteous cause without a fee, must yield to bounteous guilt:
How fair is a man in thine esteem, whose just discrimination seeketh thee,
And so, discerning merit, honoureth it with gifts!
Yea, let the cause appear sufficient, and the motive clear and unsuspicious,
As given to one who cannot help, or proving honest thanks,
There liveth not one among a million, who is proof against the charm of liberality,
And flattery, that boon of praise, hath power with the wisest.
Manis of three natures, craving all for charity;It is not enough to give him meats, withholding other comfort:For the mind starveth, and the soul is scorned, and so the human animalEateth his unsatisfying pittance, a thankless heartless pauper:Yet would he bless thee and be grateful, didst thou feed his spirit,And teach him that thine alms-givings are charities, are loves:—I saw a beggar in the street, and another beggar pitied him;Sympathy sank into his soul, and the pitied one felt happier:Anon passed by a cavalcade, children of wealth and gaiety;They laughed, and looked upon the beggar, and the gallants flung him gold;He, poor spirit-humbled wretch, gathered up their givings with a curse,And went—to share it with his brother, the beggar who had pitied him!
Manis of three natures, craving all for charity;
It is not enough to give him meats, withholding other comfort:
For the mind starveth, and the soul is scorned, and so the human animal
Eateth his unsatisfying pittance, a thankless heartless pauper:
Yet would he bless thee and be grateful, didst thou feed his spirit,
And teach him that thine alms-givings are charities, are loves:
Sympathy sank into his soul, and the pitied one felt happier:
Anon passed by a cavalcade, children of wealth and gaiety;
They laughed, and looked upon the beggar, and the gallants flung him gold;
He, poor spirit-humbled wretch, gathered up their givings with a curse,
And went—to share it with his brother, the beggar who had pitied him!
Thoumightier than Manoah's son, whence is thy great strength,And wherein the secret of thy craft, O charmer charming wisely?—For thou art strong in weakness, and in artlessness well skilled,Constant in the multitude of change, and simple amidst intricate complexity.Folly's shallow lip can ask the deepest question,And many wise in many words should answer, what is beauty?—Who shall separate the hues that flicker on a dying dolphin,Or analyse the jewelled lights that deck the peacock's train,Or shrewdly mix upon a palette the tints of an iridescent spar,Or set in rank the wandering shades about a watered silk?
Thoumightier than Manoah's son, whence is thy great strength,
And wherein the secret of thy craft, O charmer charming wisely?—
For thou art strong in weakness, and in artlessness well skilled,
Constant in the multitude of change, and simple amidst intricate complexity.
Folly's shallow lip can ask the deepest question,
And many wise in many words should answer, what is beauty?—
Who shall separate the hues that flicker on a dying dolphin,
Or analyse the jewelled lights that deck the peacock's train,
Or shrewdly mix upon a palette the tints of an iridescent spar,
Or set in rank the wandering shades about a watered silk?
Forbeauty is intangible, vague, ill to be defined;She hath the coat of a chameleon, changing while we watch it.Strangely woven is the web, disorderly yet harmonious,A glistering robe of mingled mesh, that may not be unravelled.It is shot with heaven's blue, the soul of summer skies,And twisted strings of light, the mind of noonday suns,And ruddy gleams of life, that roll along the veins,A coat of many colours, running curiously together.There is threefold beauty for man; twofold beauty for the animal;And the beauty of inanimates is single: body, temper, spirit.Multiplied in endless combination, issue the changeable results;Each class verging on the other twain, with imperceptible gradation;And every individual in each having his propriety of difference,So that the meanest of creation bringeth in a tribute of the beautiful.Yea, from the worst in favour shineth out a fitness of design,The patent mark of beauty, its Maker's name imprest.For the great Creator's seal is set to all His works;Its quarterings are Attributes of praise, and all the shield is Beauty:So, that heraldic blazon is Creation's common signet;And the universal family of life goeth in the colours of its Lord:But each one, as a several son, shall bear those arms with a difference;Beauty, various in phase, and similar in seeming oppositions.The coins of old Rome were struck with a diversity for each,Barely two be found alike, in every Cæsar's image:So, note thou the seals, ranged round the charters of the Universe,The finger of God is the stamp upon them all, but each hath its separate variety.
Forbeauty is intangible, vague, ill to be defined;
She hath the coat of a chameleon, changing while we watch it.
Strangely woven is the web, disorderly yet harmonious,
A glistering robe of mingled mesh, that may not be unravelled.
It is shot with heaven's blue, the soul of summer skies,
And twisted strings of light, the mind of noonday suns,
And ruddy gleams of life, that roll along the veins,
A coat of many colours, running curiously together.
There is threefold beauty for man; twofold beauty for the animal;
And the beauty of inanimates is single: body, temper, spirit.
Multiplied in endless combination, issue the changeable results;
Each class verging on the other twain, with imperceptible gradation;
And every individual in each having his propriety of difference,
So that the meanest of creation bringeth in a tribute of the beautiful.
Yea, from the worst in favour shineth out a fitness of design,
The patent mark of beauty, its Maker's name imprest.
For the great Creator's seal is set to all His works;
Its quarterings are Attributes of praise, and all the shield is Beauty:
So, that heraldic blazon is Creation's common signet;
And the universal family of life goeth in the colours of its Lord:
But each one, as a several son, shall bear those arms with a difference;
Beauty, various in phase, and similar in seeming oppositions.
The coins of old Rome were struck with a diversity for each,
Barely two be found alike, in every Cæsar's image:
So, note thou the seals, ranged round the charters of the Universe,
The finger of God is the stamp upon them all, but each hath its separate variety.
Beauty,theme of innocence, how may guilt discourse thee?Let holy angels sing thy praise, for man hath marred thy visage.Still the maimed torso of a Theseus can gladden taste with its proportions;Though sin hath shattered every limb, how comely are the fragments!And music leaveth on the ear a memory of sweet sounds;And broken arches charm the sight with hints of fair completeness.So, while humbled at the ruin, be thou grateful for the relics;Go forth, and look on all around with kind uncaptious eye:Freely let us wander through these unfrequented ways,And talk of glorious beauty, filling all the world.
Beauty,theme of innocence, how may guilt discourse thee?
Let holy angels sing thy praise, for man hath marred thy visage.
Still the maimed torso of a Theseus can gladden taste with its proportions;
Though sin hath shattered every limb, how comely are the fragments!
And music leaveth on the ear a memory of sweet sounds;
And broken arches charm the sight with hints of fair completeness.
So, while humbled at the ruin, be thou grateful for the relics;
Go forth, and look on all around with kind uncaptious eye:
Freely let us wander through these unfrequented ways,
And talk of glorious beauty, filling all the world.
Forbeauty hideth everywhere, that Reason's child may seek her,And having found the gem of price, may set it in God's crown.Beauty nestleth in the rosebud, or walketh the firmament with planets,She is heard in the beetle's evening hymn, and shouteth in the matins of the sun;The cheek of the peach is glowing with her smile, her splendour blazeth in the lightning,She is the dryad of the woods, the naiad of the streams;Her golden hair hath tapestried the silkworm's silent chamber,And to her measured harmonies the wild waves beat in time;With tinkling feet at eventide she danceth in the meadow,Or, like a Titan, lieth stretched athwart the ridgy Alps;She is rising, in her veil of mist, a Venus from the waters,—Men gaze upon the loveliness,—and lo, it is beautiful exceedingly;She, with the might of a Briareus, is dragging down the clouds upon the mountain,—Men look upon the grandeur,—and lo, it is excellent in glory.For I judge that beauty and sublimity be but the lesser and the great,Sublime, as magnified to giants, and beautiful, diminished into fairies.It were a false fancy to solve all beauty by desire,It were a lowering thought to expound sublimity by dread.Cowardly men with trembling hearts have feared the furious storm,Nor felt its thrilling beauty; but is it then not beautiful?And careless men, at summer's eve, have loved the dimpled waves;O that smile upon the seas,—hath it no sublimity?Dost thou nothing know of this,—to be awed at woman's beauty?Nor, with exhilarated heart, to hail the crashing thunder?Thou hast much to learn, that never found a fearfulness in flowers;Thou hast missed of joy, that never basked in beauties of the terrible.
Forbeauty hideth everywhere, that Reason's child may seek her,
And having found the gem of price, may set it in God's crown.
Beauty nestleth in the rosebud, or walketh the firmament with planets,
She is heard in the beetle's evening hymn, and shouteth in the matins of the sun;
The cheek of the peach is glowing with her smile, her splendour blazeth in the lightning,
She is the dryad of the woods, the naiad of the streams;
Her golden hair hath tapestried the silkworm's silent chamber,
And to her measured harmonies the wild waves beat in time;
With tinkling feet at eventide she danceth in the meadow,
Or, like a Titan, lieth stretched athwart the ridgy Alps;
She is rising, in her veil of mist, a Venus from the waters,—
Men gaze upon the loveliness,—and lo, it is beautiful exceedingly;
She, with the might of a Briareus, is dragging down the clouds upon the mountain,—
Men look upon the grandeur,—and lo, it is excellent in glory.
For I judge that beauty and sublimity be but the lesser and the great,
Sublime, as magnified to giants, and beautiful, diminished into fairies.
It were a false fancy to solve all beauty by desire,
It were a lowering thought to expound sublimity by dread.
Cowardly men with trembling hearts have feared the furious storm,
Nor felt its thrilling beauty; but is it then not beautiful?
And careless men, at summer's eve, have loved the dimpled waves;
O that smile upon the seas,—hath it no sublimity?
Dost thou nothing know of this,—to be awed at woman's beauty?
Nor, with exhilarated heart, to hail the crashing thunder?
Thou hast much to learn, that never found a fearfulness in flowers;
Thou hast missed of joy, that never basked in beauties of the terrible.
Showme an enthusiast in aught; he hath noted one thing narrowly,And lo, his keenness hath detected the one dear hiding place of beauty:Then he boasteth, simple soul, flattered by discovery,Fancying that no science else can show so fair and precious:He hath found a ray of light, and cherisheth the treasure in his closet,Mocking at those larger minds, that bathe in floods of noon;Lo, what a jewel hath he gotten,—this is the monopolist of beauty,—And lightly heeding all beside, he poured his yearnings thitherward:Be it for love, or for learning, habit, art, or nature,Exclusive thought is all the cause of this particular zeal.But like intensity of fitness, kind and skilful beauty,So pleasant to his mind in one thing, filleth all beside:From the waking minute of a chrysalis, to the perfect cycle of chronology,From the centipede's jointed armour to the mammoth's fossil ribs,From the kingfisher's shrill note, to the cataract's thundering bass,From the greensward's grateful hues, to the fascinating eye of woman,Beauty, various in all things, setteth up her home in each,Shedding graciously around an omnipresent smile.
Showme an enthusiast in aught; he hath noted one thing narrowly,
And lo, his keenness hath detected the one dear hiding place of beauty:
Then he boasteth, simple soul, flattered by discovery,
Fancying that no science else can show so fair and precious:
He hath found a ray of light, and cherisheth the treasure in his closet,
Mocking at those larger minds, that bathe in floods of noon;
Lo, what a jewel hath he gotten,—this is the monopolist of beauty,—
And lightly heeding all beside, he poured his yearnings thitherward:
Be it for love, or for learning, habit, art, or nature,
Exclusive thought is all the cause of this particular zeal.
But like intensity of fitness, kind and skilful beauty,
So pleasant to his mind in one thing, filleth all beside:
From the waking minute of a chrysalis, to the perfect cycle of chronology,
From the centipede's jointed armour to the mammoth's fossil ribs,
From the kingfisher's shrill note, to the cataract's thundering bass,
From the greensward's grateful hues, to the fascinating eye of woman,
Beauty, various in all things, setteth up her home in each,
Shedding graciously around an omnipresent smile.
Thereis beauty in the rolling clouds, and placid shingle beach,In feathery snows, and whistling winds, and dun electric skies;There is beauty in the rounded woods, dank with heavy foliage,In laughing fields, and dinted hills, the valley and its lake;There is beauty in the gullies, beauty on the cliffs, beauty in sun and shade,In rocks and rivers, seas and plains,—the earth is drowned in beauty.
Thereis beauty in the rolling clouds, and placid shingle beach,
In feathery snows, and whistling winds, and dun electric skies;
There is beauty in the rounded woods, dank with heavy foliage,
In laughing fields, and dinted hills, the valley and its lake;
There is beauty in the gullies, beauty on the cliffs, beauty in sun and shade,
In rocks and rivers, seas and plains,—the earth is drowned in beauty.
Beautycoileth with the watersnake, and is cradled in the shrewmouse's nest,She flitteth out with evening bats, and the soft mole hid her in his tunnel;The limpet is encamped upon the shore, and beauty not a stranger to his tent;The silvery dace and golden carp thread the rushes with her:She saileth into clouds with an eagle, she fluttereth into tulips with a humming bird;The pasturing kine are of her company, and she prowleth with the leopard in his jungle.
Beautycoileth with the watersnake, and is cradled in the shrewmouse's nest,
She flitteth out with evening bats, and the soft mole hid her in his tunnel;
The limpet is encamped upon the shore, and beauty not a stranger to his tent;
The silvery dace and golden carp thread the rushes with her:
She saileth into clouds with an eagle, she fluttereth into tulips with a humming bird;
The pasturing kine are of her company, and she prowleth with the leopard in his jungle.
Moreover,for the reasonable world, its words, and acts, and speculations,For frail and fallen manhood, in his every work and way,Beauty, wrecked and stricken, lingereth still among us,And morsels of that shattered sun are dropt upon the darkness.Yea, with savages and boors, the mean, the cruel, and besotted,Ever in extenuating grace hide some relics of the beautiful.Gleams of kindness, deeds of courage, patience, justice, generosity,Truth welcomed, knowledge prized, rebukes taken with contrition,All, in various measure, have been blest with some of these,And never yet hath lived the man, utterly beggared of the beautiful.
Moreover,for the reasonable world, its words, and acts, and speculations,
For frail and fallen manhood, in his every work and way,
Beauty, wrecked and stricken, lingereth still among us,
And morsels of that shattered sun are dropt upon the darkness.
Yea, with savages and boors, the mean, the cruel, and besotted,
Ever in extenuating grace hide some relics of the beautiful.
Gleams of kindness, deeds of courage, patience, justice, generosity,
Truth welcomed, knowledge prized, rebukes taken with contrition,
All, in various measure, have been blest with some of these,
And never yet hath lived the man, utterly beggared of the beautiful.
Beautyis as crystal in the torchlight, sparkling on the poet's page;Virgin honey of Hymettus, distilled from the lips of the orator;A savour of sweet spikenard, anointing the hands of liberality;A feast of angels' food set upon the tables of religion.She is seen in the tear of sorrow, and heard in the exuberance of mirth;She goeth out early with the huntsman, and watcheth at the pillow of disease.Science in his secret laws hath found out latent beauty,Sphere and square, and cone and curve, are fashioned by her rules:Mechanism met her in his forces, fancy caught her in its flittings,Day is lightened by her eyes, and her eyelids close upon the night.
Beautyis as crystal in the torchlight, sparkling on the poet's page;
Virgin honey of Hymettus, distilled from the lips of the orator;
A savour of sweet spikenard, anointing the hands of liberality;
A feast of angels' food set upon the tables of religion.
She is seen in the tear of sorrow, and heard in the exuberance of mirth;
She goeth out early with the huntsman, and watcheth at the pillow of disease.
Science in his secret laws hath found out latent beauty,
Sphere and square, and cone and curve, are fashioned by her rules:
Mechanism met her in his forces, fancy caught her in its flittings,
Day is lightened by her eyes, and her eyelids close upon the night.
Beautyis dependence in the babe, a toothless tender nurseling;Beauty is boldness in the boy, a curly rosy truant;Beauty is modesty and grace in fair retiring girlhood;Beauty is openness and strength in pure high-minded youth:Man, the noble and intelligent, gladdeneth earth with beauty,And woman's beauty sunneth him, as with a smile from heaven.
Beautyis dependence in the babe, a toothless tender nurseling;
Beauty is boldness in the boy, a curly rosy truant;
Beauty is modesty and grace in fair retiring girlhood;
Beauty is openness and strength in pure high-minded youth:
Man, the noble and intelligent, gladdeneth earth with beauty,
And woman's beauty sunneth him, as with a smile from heaven.
Thereis none enchantment against beauty, Magician for all time,Whose potent spells of sympathy have charmed the passive world:Verily, she reigneth a Semiramis; there is no might against her;The lords of every land are harnessed to her triumph.Beauty is conqueror of all, nor ever yet was found among the nationsThat iron-moulded mind, full proof against her power.Beauty, like a summer's day, subdueth by sweet influences;Who can wrestle against Sleep?—yet is that giant, very gentleness.
Thereis none enchantment against beauty, Magician for all time,
Whose potent spells of sympathy have charmed the passive world:
Verily, she reigneth a Semiramis; there is no might against her;
The lords of every land are harnessed to her triumph.
Beauty is conqueror of all, nor ever yet was found among the nations
That iron-moulded mind, full proof against her power.
Beauty, like a summer's day, subdueth by sweet influences;
Who can wrestle against Sleep?—yet is that giant, very gentleness.
Ajaxmay rout a phalanx, but beauty shall enslave him single-handed;Pericles ruled Athens, yet he is the servant of Aspasia:Light were the labour, and often-told the tale, to count the victories of beauty,—Helen, and Judith, and Omphale, and Thais, many a trophied name.At a glance the misanthrope was softened, and repented of his vows,When Beauty asked, he gave, and banned her—with a blessing;The cold ascetic loved the smile that lit his dismal cell,And kindly stayed her step, and wept when she departed;The bigot abbess felt her heart gush with a mother's feeling,When looking on some lovely face beneath the cloister's shade;Usury freed her without ransom; the buccaneer was gentle in her presence;Madness kissed her on the cheek, and Idiotcy brightened at her coming:Yea, the very cattle in the field, and hungry prowlers of the forestWith fawning homage greeted her, as Beauty glided by.A welcome guest unbidden, she is dear to every hearth;A glad spontaneous growth of friends is springing round her rest:Learning sitteth at her feet, and Idleness laboureth to please her,Folly hath flung aside his bells, and leaden Dulness gloweth;Prudence is rash in her defence; Frugality filleth her with riches;Despair came to her for counsel; and Bereavement was glad when she consoled;Justice putteth up his sword at the tear of supplicating beauty,And Mercy, with indulgent haste, hath pardoned beauty's sin.
Ajaxmay rout a phalanx, but beauty shall enslave him single-handed;
Pericles ruled Athens, yet he is the servant of Aspasia:
Light were the labour, and often-told the tale, to count the victories of beauty,—
Helen, and Judith, and Omphale, and Thais, many a trophied name.
At a glance the misanthrope was softened, and repented of his vows,
When Beauty asked, he gave, and banned her—with a blessing;
The cold ascetic loved the smile that lit his dismal cell,
And kindly stayed her step, and wept when she departed;
The bigot abbess felt her heart gush with a mother's feeling,
When looking on some lovely face beneath the cloister's shade;
Usury freed her without ransom; the buccaneer was gentle in her presence;
Madness kissed her on the cheek, and Idiotcy brightened at her coming:
Yea, the very cattle in the field, and hungry prowlers of the forest
With fawning homage greeted her, as Beauty glided by.
A welcome guest unbidden, she is dear to every hearth;
A glad spontaneous growth of friends is springing round her rest:
Learning sitteth at her feet, and Idleness laboureth to please her,
Folly hath flung aside his bells, and leaden Dulness gloweth;
Prudence is rash in her defence; Frugality filleth her with riches;
Despair came to her for counsel; and Bereavement was glad when she consoled;
Justice putteth up his sword at the tear of supplicating beauty,
And Mercy, with indulgent haste, hath pardoned beauty's sin.
Forbeauty is the substitute for all things, satisfying every absence,The rich delirious cup to make all else forgotten:She also is the zest unto all things, enhancing every presence,The rare and precious ambergris, to quicken each perfume.O beauty, thou art eloquent; yea, though slow of tongue,Thy breast, fair Phryne, pleaded well before the dazzled judge:O beauty, thou art wise; yea, though teaching falsely,Sages listen, sweet Corinna, to commend thy lips;O beauty, thou art ruler; yea, though lowly as a slave,Myrrha, that imperial brow is monarch of thy lord;O beauty, thou art winner; yea, though halting in the race,Hippodame, Camilla, Atalanta,—in gracefulness ye fascinate your umpires;O beauty, thou art rich; yea, though clad in russet,Attalus cannot boast his gold against the wealth of beauty;O beauty, thou art noble; yea, though Esther be an exile,Set her up on high, ye kings, and bow before the majesty of beauty!
Forbeauty is the substitute for all things, satisfying every absence,
The rich delirious cup to make all else forgotten:
She also is the zest unto all things, enhancing every presence,
The rare and precious ambergris, to quicken each perfume.
O beauty, thou art eloquent; yea, though slow of tongue,
Thy breast, fair Phryne, pleaded well before the dazzled judge:
O beauty, thou art wise; yea, though teaching falsely,
Sages listen, sweet Corinna, to commend thy lips;
O beauty, thou art ruler; yea, though lowly as a slave,
Myrrha, that imperial brow is monarch of thy lord;
O beauty, thou art winner; yea, though halting in the race,
Hippodame, Camilla, Atalanta,—in gracefulness ye fascinate your umpires;
O beauty, thou art rich; yea, though clad in russet,
Attalus cannot boast his gold against the wealth of beauty;
O beauty, thou art noble; yea, though Esther be an exile,
Set her up on high, ye kings, and bow before the majesty of beauty!
Friendand scholar, who, in charity, hast walked with me thus far,We have wandered in a wilderness of sweets, tracking beauty's footsteps:And ever as we rambled on among the tangled thicket,Many a startled thought hath tempted further roaming:Passion, sympathetic influence, might of imaginary haloes,—Many the like would lure aside, to hunt their wayward themes.And, look you!—from his ferny bed in yonder hazel coppice,A dappled hart hath flung aside the boughs and broke away;He is fleet and capricious as the zephyr, and with exulting boundsHieth down a turfy lane between the sounding woods;His neck is garlanded with flowers, his antlers hung with chaplets,And rainbow-coloured ribbons stream adown his mottled flanks:Should we follow?—foolish hunters, thus to chase afoot,—Who can track the airy speed and doubling wiles of Taste?
Friendand scholar, who, in charity, hast walked with me thus far,
We have wandered in a wilderness of sweets, tracking beauty's footsteps:
And ever as we rambled on among the tangled thicket,
Many a startled thought hath tempted further roaming:
Passion, sympathetic influence, might of imaginary haloes,—
Many the like would lure aside, to hunt their wayward themes.
And, look you!—from his ferny bed in yonder hazel coppice,
A dappled hart hath flung aside the boughs and broke away;
He is fleet and capricious as the zephyr, and with exulting bounds
Hieth down a turfy lane between the sounding woods;
His neck is garlanded with flowers, his antlers hung with chaplets,
And rainbow-coloured ribbons stream adown his mottled flanks:
Should we follow?—foolish hunters, thus to chase afoot,—
Who can track the airy speed and doubling wiles of Taste?
Forthe estimates of human beauty, dependent upon time and clime,Manifold and changeable, are multiplied the more by strange gregarious fashion:And notable ensamples in the great turn to epidemics in the lower,So that a nation's taste shall vary with its rulers.Stern Egypt, humbled to the Greek, fancied softer idols;Greece, the Roman province, nigh forgat her classic sculpture;Rome, crushed beneath the Goth, loved his barbarian habits;And Alaric, with his ruffian horde, is tamed by silken Rome.Columbia's flattened head, and China's crumpled feet,—The civilized tapering waist,—and the pendulous ears of the savage,—The swollen throat among the mountains, and an ebon skin beneath the tropics,—These shall all be reckoned beauty: and for weighty cause.First, for the latter: Providence in mercy tempereth taste by circumstance,So that Nature's must shall hit her creature's liking;Second, for the middle: though the foolishness of vanity seek to mar proportion,Still, defects in those we love shall soon be counted praise;Third, for the first: a chief, and a princess, maimed or distorted from the cradleShall coax the flattery of slaves to imitate the great in their deformity:Hence groweth habit: and habits make a taste,And so shall servile zeal deface the types of beauty.Whiles Alexander conquered, crookedness was comely:And followers learn to praise the scars upon their leader's brow.Youth hath sought to flatter age by mimicking grey hairs;Age plastereth her wrinkles, and is painted in the ruddiness of Youth.Fashion, the parasite of Rank, apeth faults and failings,Until the general Taste depraved hath warped its sense of beauty.
Forthe estimates of human beauty, dependent upon time and clime,
Manifold and changeable, are multiplied the more by strange gregarious fashion:
And notable ensamples in the great turn to epidemics in the lower,
So that a nation's taste shall vary with its rulers.
Stern Egypt, humbled to the Greek, fancied softer idols;
Greece, the Roman province, nigh forgat her classic sculpture;
Rome, crushed beneath the Goth, loved his barbarian habits;
And Alaric, with his ruffian horde, is tamed by silken Rome.
Columbia's flattened head, and China's crumpled feet,—
The civilized tapering waist,—and the pendulous ears of the savage,—
The swollen throat among the mountains, and an ebon skin beneath the tropics,—
These shall all be reckoned beauty: and for weighty cause.
First, for the latter: Providence in mercy tempereth taste by circumstance,
So that Nature's must shall hit her creature's liking;
Second, for the middle: though the foolishness of vanity seek to mar proportion,
Still, defects in those we love shall soon be counted praise;
Third, for the first: a chief, and a princess, maimed or distorted from the cradle
Shall coax the flattery of slaves to imitate the great in their deformity:
Hence groweth habit: and habits make a taste,
And so shall servile zeal deface the types of beauty.
Whiles Alexander conquered, crookedness was comely:
And followers learn to praise the scars upon their leader's brow.
Youth hath sought to flatter age by mimicking grey hairs;
Age plastereth her wrinkles, and is painted in the ruddiness of Youth.
Fashion, the parasite of Rank, apeth faults and failings,
Until the general Taste depraved hath warped its sense of beauty.
Eachman hath a measure for himself, yet all shall coincide in much;A perfect form of human grace would captivate the world:Be it manhood's lustre, or the loveliness of woman, all would own its beauty,The Caffre and Circassian, Russians and Hindoos, the Briton, the Turk and Japanese.Not all alike, nor all at once, but each in proportion to intelligence,His purer state in morals, and a lesser grade in guilt:For the high standard of the beautiful is fixed in Reason's forum,And sins, and customs, and caprice, have failed to break it down:And reason's standard for the creature pointeth three perfections,Frame, knowledge, and the feeling heart, well and kindly mingled;A fair dwelling, furnished wisely, with a gentle tenant in it,—This is the glory of humanity: thou hast seen it seldom.
Eachman hath a measure for himself, yet all shall coincide in much;
A perfect form of human grace would captivate the world:
Be it manhood's lustre, or the loveliness of woman, all would own its beauty,
The Caffre and Circassian, Russians and Hindoos, the Briton, the Turk and Japanese.
Not all alike, nor all at once, but each in proportion to intelligence,
His purer state in morals, and a lesser grade in guilt:
For the high standard of the beautiful is fixed in Reason's forum,
And sins, and customs, and caprice, have failed to break it down:
And reason's standard for the creature pointeth three perfections,
Frame, knowledge, and the feeling heart, well and kindly mingled;
A fair dwelling, furnished wisely, with a gentle tenant in it,—
This is the glory of humanity: thou hast seen it seldom.
Thereis a beauty for the body; the superficial polish of a statue,The symmetry of form and feature delicately carved and painted.How bright in early bloom the Georgian sitteth at her lattice,How softened off in graceful curves her young and gentle shape:Those dark eyes, lit by curiosity, flash beneath the lashes,And still her velvet cheek is dimpled with a smile.Dost thou count her beautiful?—even as a mere fair figure,A plastic image, little more,—the outer garb of woman:Yea,—and thus far it is well; but Reason's hopes are higher,—Can he sate his soul on a scantling third of beauty?
Thereis a beauty for the body; the superficial polish of a statue,
The symmetry of form and feature delicately carved and painted.
How bright in early bloom the Georgian sitteth at her lattice,
How softened off in graceful curves her young and gentle shape:
Those dark eyes, lit by curiosity, flash beneath the lashes,
And still her velvet cheek is dimpled with a smile.
Dost thou count her beautiful?—even as a mere fair figure,
A plastic image, little more,—the outer garb of woman:
Yea,—and thus far it is well; but Reason's hopes are higher,—
Can he sate his soul on a scantling third of beauty?
Yetis this the pleasing trickery, that cheateth half the world,Nature's wise deceit to make up waste in life;And few be they that rest uncaught, for many a twig is limed;Where is the wise among a million, that took not form for beauty?But watch it well; for vanity and sin, malice, hate, suspicion,Louring as clouds upon the countenance, will disenchant its charms.The needful complexity of beauty claimeth mind and soul,Though many coins of foul alloy pass current for the true:And albeit fairness in the creature shall often co-exist with excellence,Yet hath many an angel shape been tenanted by fiends.A man, spiritually keen, shall detect in surface beautyThose marring specks of evil which the sensual cannot see;Therefore is he proof against a face, unlovely to his likings,And common minds shall scorn the taste, that shrunk from sin's distortion.
Yetis this the pleasing trickery, that cheateth half the world,
Nature's wise deceit to make up waste in life;
And few be they that rest uncaught, for many a twig is limed;
Where is the wise among a million, that took not form for beauty?
But watch it well; for vanity and sin, malice, hate, suspicion,
Louring as clouds upon the countenance, will disenchant its charms.
The needful complexity of beauty claimeth mind and soul,
Though many coins of foul alloy pass current for the true:
And albeit fairness in the creature shall often co-exist with excellence,
Yet hath many an angel shape been tenanted by fiends.
A man, spiritually keen, shall detect in surface beauty
Those marring specks of evil which the sensual cannot see;
Therefore is he proof against a face, unlovely to his likings,
And common minds shall scorn the taste, that shrunk from sin's distortion.
Thereis a beauty for the reason; grandly independent of externals,It looketh from the windows of the house, shining in the man triumphant.I have seen the broad blank face of some misshapen dwarfLit on a sudden as with glory, the brilliant light of mind:Who then imagined him deformed? intelligence is blazing on his forehead,There is empire in his eye, and sweetness on his lip, and his brown cheek glittereth with beauty:And I have known some Nireus of the camp, a varnished paragon of chamberers,Fine, elegant, and shapely, moulded as the master-piece of Phidias,—Such an one, with intellects abased, have I noted crouching to the dwarf,Whilst his lovers scorn the fool, whose beauty hath departed!
Thereis a beauty for the reason; grandly independent of externals,
It looketh from the windows of the house, shining in the man triumphant.
I have seen the broad blank face of some misshapen dwarf
Lit on a sudden as with glory, the brilliant light of mind:
Who then imagined him deformed? intelligence is blazing on his forehead,
There is empire in his eye, and sweetness on his lip, and his brown cheek glittereth with beauty:
And I have known some Nireus of the camp, a varnished paragon of chamberers,
Fine, elegant, and shapely, moulded as the master-piece of Phidias,—
Such an one, with intellects abased, have I noted crouching to the dwarf,
Whilst his lovers scorn the fool, whose beauty hath departed!
Andthere is a beauty for the spirit; mind in its perfect flowering,Fragrant, expanded into soul, full of love and blessed.Go to some squalid couch, some famishing death-bed of the poor;He is shrunken, cadaverous, diseased;—there is here no beauty of the body:Never hath he fed on knowledge, nor drank at the streams of science,He is of the common herd, illiterate;—there is here no beauty of the reason:But lo! his filming eye is bright with love from heaven,In every look it beameth praise, as worshipping with seraphs;What honeycomb is hived upon his lips, eloquent of gratitude and prayer,—What triumph shrined serene upon that clammy brow,What glory flickering transparent under those thin cheeks,—What beauty in his face!—Is it not the face of an angel?
Andthere is a beauty for the spirit; mind in its perfect flowering,
Fragrant, expanded into soul, full of love and blessed.
Go to some squalid couch, some famishing death-bed of the poor;
He is shrunken, cadaverous, diseased;—there is here no beauty of the body:
Never hath he fed on knowledge, nor drank at the streams of science,
He is of the common herd, illiterate;—there is here no beauty of the reason:
But lo! his filming eye is bright with love from heaven,
In every look it beameth praise, as worshipping with seraphs;
What honeycomb is hived upon his lips, eloquent of gratitude and prayer,—
What triumph shrined serene upon that clammy brow,
What glory flickering transparent under those thin cheeks,—
What beauty in his face!—Is it not the face of an angel?
Now,of these three, infinitely mingled and combined,Consisteth human beauty, in all the marvels of its mightiness:And forth from human beauty springeth the intensity of Love;Feeling, thought, desire, the three deep fountains of affection.Son of Adam, or daughter of Eve, art thou trapped by nature,And is thy young eye dazzled with the pleasant form of beauty?This is but a lower love; still it hath its honour;What God hath made and meant to charm, let not man despise.Nevertheless, as reason's child, look thou wisely farther,For age, disease, and care, and sin, shall tarnish all the surface:Reach a loftier love: be lured by the comeliness of mind,—Gentle, kind, and calm, or lustrous in the livery of knowledge.And more, there is a higher grade; force the mind to its perfection—Win those golden trophies of consummate love:Add unto riches of the reason, and a beauty moulded to thy liking,The precious things of nobler grace that well adorn a soul;Thus, be thou owner of a treasure, great in earth and heaven,Beauty, wisdom, goodness, in a creature like its God.
Now,of these three, infinitely mingled and combined,
Consisteth human beauty, in all the marvels of its mightiness:
And forth from human beauty springeth the intensity of Love;
Feeling, thought, desire, the three deep fountains of affection.
Son of Adam, or daughter of Eve, art thou trapped by nature,
And is thy young eye dazzled with the pleasant form of beauty?
This is but a lower love; still it hath its honour;
What God hath made and meant to charm, let not man despise.
Nevertheless, as reason's child, look thou wisely farther,
For age, disease, and care, and sin, shall tarnish all the surface:
Reach a loftier love: be lured by the comeliness of mind,—
Gentle, kind, and calm, or lustrous in the livery of knowledge.
And more, there is a higher grade; force the mind to its perfection—
Win those golden trophies of consummate love:
Add unto riches of the reason, and a beauty moulded to thy liking,
The precious things of nobler grace that well adorn a soul;
Thus, be thou owner of a treasure, great in earth and heaven,
Beauty, wisdom, goodness, in a creature like its God.
Sothen, draw we to an end; with feeble step and faltering,I follow beauty through the universe, and find her home Ubiquity:In all that God hath made, in all that man hath marred,Lingereth beauty, or its wreck, a broken mould and castings.And now, having wandered long time, freely and with desultory feet,To gather in the garden of the world a few fair sample flowers,With patient scrutinizing care let us cull the conclusion of their essence,And answer to the riddle of Zorobabel, Whence the might of beauty?
Sothen, draw we to an end; with feeble step and faltering,
I follow beauty through the universe, and find her home Ubiquity:
In all that God hath made, in all that man hath marred,
Lingereth beauty, or its wreck, a broken mould and castings.
And now, having wandered long time, freely and with desultory feet,
To gather in the garden of the world a few fair sample flowers,
With patient scrutinizing care let us cull the conclusion of their essence,
And answer to the riddle of Zorobabel, Whence the might of beauty?
Uglinessis native unto nothing, but an attribute of concrete evil;In everything created, at its worst, lurk the dregs of loveliness:We be fallen into utter depths, yet once we stood sublime,For man was made in perfect praise, his Maker's comely image:And so his new-born ill is spiced with older good,He carrieth with him, yea to crime, the withered limbs of beauty.Passions may be crooked generosities; the robber stealeth for his children;Murder was avenger of the innocent, or wiped out shame with blood.Many virtues, weighted by excess, sink among the vices;Many vices, amicably buoyed, float among the virtues.For, albeit sin is hate, a foul and bitter turpitude,As hurling back against the Giver all His gifts with insult,Still when concrete in the sinner, it will seem to partake of his attractions,And in seductive masquerade shall cloak its leprous skin;His broken lights of beauty shall illumine its utter black,And those refracted rays glitter on the hunch of its deformity.
Uglinessis native unto nothing, but an attribute of concrete evil;
In everything created, at its worst, lurk the dregs of loveliness:
We be fallen into utter depths, yet once we stood sublime,
For man was made in perfect praise, his Maker's comely image:
And so his new-born ill is spiced with older good,
He carrieth with him, yea to crime, the withered limbs of beauty.
Passions may be crooked generosities; the robber stealeth for his children;
Murder was avenger of the innocent, or wiped out shame with blood.
Many virtues, weighted by excess, sink among the vices;
Many vices, amicably buoyed, float among the virtues.
For, albeit sin is hate, a foul and bitter turpitude,
As hurling back against the Giver all His gifts with insult,
Still when concrete in the sinner, it will seem to partake of his attractions,
And in seductive masquerade shall cloak its leprous skin;
His broken lights of beauty shall illumine its utter black,
And those refracted rays glitter on the hunch of its deformity.
Verilythe fancy may be false, yet hath it met me in my musings,(As expounding the pleasantness of pleasure, but no ways extenuating licence,)That even those yearnings after beauty, in wayward wanton youth,When, guileless of ulterior end, it craveth but to look upon the lovely,Seem like struggles of the soul, dimly remembering pre-existence,And feeling in its blindness for a long-lost god, to satisfy its longing;As if the sucking babe, tenderly mindful of his mother,Should pull a dragon's dugs, and drain the teats of poison.Our primal source was beauty, and we pant for it ever and again;But sin hath stopped the way with thorns; we turn aside, wander, and are lost.
Verilythe fancy may be false, yet hath it met me in my musings,
That even those yearnings after beauty, in wayward wanton youth,
When, guileless of ulterior end, it craveth but to look upon the lovely,
Seem like struggles of the soul, dimly remembering pre-existence,
And feeling in its blindness for a long-lost god, to satisfy its longing;
As if the sucking babe, tenderly mindful of his mother,
Should pull a dragon's dugs, and drain the teats of poison.
Our primal source was beauty, and we pant for it ever and again;
But sin hath stopped the way with thorns; we turn aside, wander, and are lost.
God,the undiluted good, is root and stock of beauty,And every child of reason drew his essence from that stem.Therefore, it is of intuition, an innate hankering for home,A sweet returning to the well, from which our spirit flowed,That we, unconscious of a cause, should bask these darkened soulsIn some poor relics of the light that blazed in primal beauty,And, even like as exiles of idolatry, should quaff from the cisterns of creationStagnant draughts, for those fresh springs that rise in the Creator.
God,the undiluted good, is root and stock of beauty,
And every child of reason drew his essence from that stem.
Therefore, it is of intuition, an innate hankering for home,
A sweet returning to the well, from which our spirit flowed,
That we, unconscious of a cause, should bask these darkened souls
In some poor relics of the light that blazed in primal beauty,
And, even like as exiles of idolatry, should quaff from the cisterns of creation
Stagnant draughts, for those fresh springs that rise in the Creator.
Only,being burdened with the body, spiritual appetite is warped,And sensual man, with taste corrupted, drinketh of pollutions:Impulse is left, but indiscriminate; his hunger feasteth upon carrion;His natural love of beauty doateth over beauty in decay.He still thirsteth for the beautiful; but his delicate ideal hath grown gross,And the very sense of thirst hath been fevered from affection into passion.He remembereth the blessedness of light, but it is with an old man's memory,A blind old man from infancy, that once hath seen the sun,Whom long experience of night hath darkened in his cradle recollections,Until his brightest thought of noon is but a shade of black.
Only,being burdened with the body, spiritual appetite is warped,
And sensual man, with taste corrupted, drinketh of pollutions:
Impulse is left, but indiscriminate; his hunger feasteth upon carrion;
His natural love of beauty doateth over beauty in decay.
He still thirsteth for the beautiful; but his delicate ideal hath grown gross,
And the very sense of thirst hath been fevered from affection into passion.
He remembereth the blessedness of light, but it is with an old man's memory,
A blind old man from infancy, that once hath seen the sun,
Whom long experience of night hath darkened in his cradle recollections,
Until his brightest thought of noon is but a shade of black.
Thisthen is thy charm, O beauty all pervading;And this thy wondrous strength, O beauty, conqueror of all:The outline of our shadowy best, the pure and comely creature,That winneth on the conscience with a saddening admiration:And some untutored thirst for God, the root of every pleasure,Native to creatures, yea in ruin, and dating from the birthday of the soul.For God sealeth up the sum, confirmed exemplar of proportions,Rich in love, full of wisdom, and perfect in the plenitude of Beauty.
Thisthen is thy charm, O beauty all pervading;
And this thy wondrous strength, O beauty, conqueror of all:
The outline of our shadowy best, the pure and comely creature,
That winneth on the conscience with a saddening admiration:
And some untutored thirst for God, the root of every pleasure,
Native to creatures, yea in ruin, and dating from the birthday of the soul.
For God sealeth up the sum, confirmed exemplar of proportions,
Rich in love, full of wisdom, and perfect in the plenitude of Beauty.
Blowthe trumpet, spread the wing, fling thy scroll upon the sky,Rouse the slumbering world, O Fame, and fill the sphere with echo!—Beneath thy blast they wake, and murmurs come hoarsely on the wind,And flashing eyes and bristling hands proclaim they hear thy message:Rolling and surging as a sea, that upturned flood of facesHasteneth with its million tongues to spread the wondrous tale;The hum of added voices groweth to the roaring of a cataract,And rapidly from wave to wave is tossed that exaggerated story,Until those stunning clamours, gradually diluted in the distance,Sink ashamed, and shrink afraid of noise, and die away.Then brooding Silence, forth from his hollow caverns,Cloaked and cowled, and gliding along, a cold and stealthy shadow,Once more is mingled with the multitude, whispering as he walketh,And hushing all their eager ears, to hear some newer Fame.So all is still again; but nothing of the past hath been forgotten;A stirring recollection of the trumpet ringeth in the hearts of men:And each one, either envious or admiring, hath wished the chance were hisTo fill as thus the startled world with fame, or fear, or wonder.This lit thy torch of sacrilege, Ephesian Eratostratus;This dug thy living grave, Pythagoras, the traveller from Hadës;For this, dived Empedocles into Etna's fiery whirlpool;For this, conquerors, regicides, and rebels, have dared their perilous crimes.In all men, from the monarch to the menial, lurketh lust of fame:The savage and the sage alike regard their labours proudly:Yea, in death, the glazing eye is illumined by the hope of reputation,And the stricken warrior is glad, that his wounds are salved with glory.
Blowthe trumpet, spread the wing, fling thy scroll upon the sky,
Rouse the slumbering world, O Fame, and fill the sphere with echo!
—Beneath thy blast they wake, and murmurs come hoarsely on the wind,
And flashing eyes and bristling hands proclaim they hear thy message:
Rolling and surging as a sea, that upturned flood of faces
Hasteneth with its million tongues to spread the wondrous tale;
The hum of added voices groweth to the roaring of a cataract,
And rapidly from wave to wave is tossed that exaggerated story,
Until those stunning clamours, gradually diluted in the distance,
Sink ashamed, and shrink afraid of noise, and die away.
Then brooding Silence, forth from his hollow caverns,
Cloaked and cowled, and gliding along, a cold and stealthy shadow,
Once more is mingled with the multitude, whispering as he walketh,
And hushing all their eager ears, to hear some newer Fame.
So all is still again; but nothing of the past hath been forgotten;
A stirring recollection of the trumpet ringeth in the hearts of men:
And each one, either envious or admiring, hath wished the chance were his
To fill as thus the startled world with fame, or fear, or wonder.
This lit thy torch of sacrilege, Ephesian Eratostratus;
This dug thy living grave, Pythagoras, the traveller from Hadës;
For this, dived Empedocles into Etna's fiery whirlpool;
For this, conquerors, regicides, and rebels, have dared their perilous crimes.
In all men, from the monarch to the menial, lurketh lust of fame:
The savage and the sage alike regard their labours proudly:
Yea, in death, the glazing eye is illumined by the hope of reputation,
And the stricken warrior is glad, that his wounds are salved with glory.
Forfame is a sweet self-homage, an offering grateful to the idol,A spiritual nectar for the spiritual thirst, a mental food for mind,A pregnant evidence to all of an after immaterial existence,A proof that soul is scatheless, when its dwelling is dissolved.And the manifold pleasures of fame are sought by the guilty and the good:Pleasures, various in kind, and spiced to every palate:The thoughtful loveth fame as an earnest of better immortality,The industrious and deserving, as a symbol of just appreciation,The selfish, as a promise of advancement, at least to a man's own kin,And common minds, as a flattering fact that men have been told of their existence.
Forfame is a sweet self-homage, an offering grateful to the idol,
A spiritual nectar for the spiritual thirst, a mental food for mind,
A pregnant evidence to all of an after immaterial existence,
A proof that soul is scatheless, when its dwelling is dissolved.
And the manifold pleasures of fame are sought by the guilty and the good:
Pleasures, various in kind, and spiced to every palate:
The thoughtful loveth fame as an earnest of better immortality,
The industrious and deserving, as a symbol of just appreciation,
The selfish, as a promise of advancement, at least to a man's own kin,
And common minds, as a flattering fact that men have been told of their existence.
Thereis a blameless love of fame, springing from desire of justice,When a man hath featly won and fairly claimed his honours:And then fame cometh as encouragement to the inward consciousness of merit,Gladdening by the kindliness and thanks, wherewithal his labours are rewarded.But there is a sordid imitation, a feverish thirst for notoriety,Waiting upon vanity and sloth, and utterly regardless of deserving:And then fame cometh as a curse; the fire-damp is gathered in the mine:The soul is swelled with poisonous air, and a spark of temptation shall explode it.
Thereis a blameless love of fame, springing from desire of justice,
When a man hath featly won and fairly claimed his honours:
And then fame cometh as encouragement to the inward consciousness of merit,
Gladdening by the kindliness and thanks, wherewithal his labours are rewarded.
But there is a sordid imitation, a feverish thirst for notoriety,
Waiting upon vanity and sloth, and utterly regardless of deserving:
And then fame cometh as a curse; the fire-damp is gathered in the mine:
The soul is swelled with poisonous air, and a spark of temptation shall explode it.
Idlecauses, noised awhile, shall yield most active consequents,And therefore it were ill upon occasion to scorn the voice of rumour.Ye have seen the chemist in his art mingle invisible gases;And lo, the product is a substance, a heavy dark precipitate:Even so fame, hurtling on the quiet with many meeting tongues,Can out of nothing bring forth fruits, and blossom on a nourishment of air.For many have earned honour, and thereby rank and riches,From false and fleeting tales, some casual mere mistake;And many have been wrecked upon disgrace, and have struggled with poverty and scorn,From envious hints and ill reports, the slanders cast on innocence.Whom may not scandal hit? those shafts are shot at a venture:Who standeth not in danger of suspicion? that net hath caught the noblest.Cæsar's wife was spotless, but a martyr to false fame;And Rumour, in temporary things, is gigantic as a ruin or a remedy:Many poor and many rich have testified its popular omnipotence,And many a panic-stricken army hath perished with the host of the Assyrians.
Idlecauses, noised awhile, shall yield most active consequents,
And therefore it were ill upon occasion to scorn the voice of rumour.
Ye have seen the chemist in his art mingle invisible gases;
And lo, the product is a substance, a heavy dark precipitate:
Even so fame, hurtling on the quiet with many meeting tongues,
Can out of nothing bring forth fruits, and blossom on a nourishment of air.
For many have earned honour, and thereby rank and riches,
From false and fleeting tales, some casual mere mistake;
And many have been wrecked upon disgrace, and have struggled with poverty and scorn,
From envious hints and ill reports, the slanders cast on innocence.
Whom may not scandal hit? those shafts are shot at a venture:
Who standeth not in danger of suspicion? that net hath caught the noblest.
Cæsar's wife was spotless, but a martyr to false fame;
And Rumour, in temporary things, is gigantic as a ruin or a remedy:
Many poor and many rich have testified its popular omnipotence,
And many a panic-stricken army hath perished with the host of the Assyrians.
Nevertheless,if opportunity be nought, let a man bide his time;So the matter be not merchandise nor conquest, fear thou less for character.If a liar accuseth thee of evil, be not swift to answer;Yea, rather give him license for awhile; it shall help thine honour afterward:Never yet was calumny engendered, but good men speedily discerned it,And innocence hath burst from its injustice, as the green world rolling out of Chaos.What, though still the wicked scoff,—this also turneth to his praise;Did ye never hear that censure of the bad is buttress to a good man's glory?What, if the ignorant still hold out, obstinate in unkind judgment,—Ignorance and calumny are paired; we affirm by two negations:Let them stand round about, pushing at the column in a circle,For all their toil and wasted strength, the foolish do but prop it.And note thou this; in the secret of their hearts, they feel the taunt is false,And cannot help but reverence the courage, that walketh amid calumnies unanswering:He standeth as a gallant chief, unheeding shot or shell;He trusteth in God his Judge: neither arrows nor the pestilence shall harm him.
Nevertheless,if opportunity be nought, let a man bide his time;
So the matter be not merchandise nor conquest, fear thou less for character.
If a liar accuseth thee of evil, be not swift to answer;
Yea, rather give him license for awhile; it shall help thine honour afterward:
Never yet was calumny engendered, but good men speedily discerned it,
And innocence hath burst from its injustice, as the green world rolling out of Chaos.
What, though still the wicked scoff,—this also turneth to his praise;
Did ye never hear that censure of the bad is buttress to a good man's glory?
What, if the ignorant still hold out, obstinate in unkind judgment,—
Ignorance and calumny are paired; we affirm by two negations:
Let them stand round about, pushing at the column in a circle,
For all their toil and wasted strength, the foolish do but prop it.
And note thou this; in the secret of their hearts, they feel the taunt is false,
And cannot help but reverence the courage, that walketh amid calumnies unanswering:
He standeth as a gallant chief, unheeding shot or shell;
He trusteth in God his Judge: neither arrows nor the pestilence shall harm him.
A highheart is a sacrifice to Heaven: should it stoop among the creepers in the dust,To tell them that what God approved, is worthy of their praise?Never shall it heed the thought; but flaming on in triumph to the skies,And quite forgetting fame, shall find it added as a trophy.A great mind is an altar on a hill: should the priest descend from his altitude,To canvass offerings and worship from dwellers on the plain?Rather, with majestic perseverance will he minister in solitary grandeur,Confident the time will come, when pilgrims shall be flocking to the shrine.For fame is the birthright of genius; and he recketh not how long it be delayed;The heir need not hasten to his heritage, when he knoweth that his tenure is eternal.The careless poet of Avon, was he troubled for his fame,Or the deep-mouthed chronicler of Paradise, heeded he the suffrage of his equals?Mæonides took no thought, committing all his honours to the future,And Flaccus, standing on his watch-tower, spied the praise of ages.
A highheart is a sacrifice to Heaven: should it stoop among the creepers in the dust,
To tell them that what God approved, is worthy of their praise?
Never shall it heed the thought; but flaming on in triumph to the skies,
And quite forgetting fame, shall find it added as a trophy.
A great mind is an altar on a hill: should the priest descend from his altitude,
To canvass offerings and worship from dwellers on the plain?
Rather, with majestic perseverance will he minister in solitary grandeur,
Confident the time will come, when pilgrims shall be flocking to the shrine.
For fame is the birthright of genius; and he recketh not how long it be delayed;
The heir need not hasten to his heritage, when he knoweth that his tenure is eternal.
The careless poet of Avon, was he troubled for his fame,
Or the deep-mouthed chronicler of Paradise, heeded he the suffrage of his equals?
Mæonides took no thought, committing all his honours to the future,
And Flaccus, standing on his watch-tower, spied the praise of ages.
Smokingflax will breed a flame, and the flame may illuminate a world;Where is he who scorned that smoke as foul and murky vapour?The village stream swelled to a river, and the river was a kingdom's wealth,Where is he who boasted he could step across that stream?Such are the beginnings of the famous: little in the judgment of their peers,The juster verdict of posterity shall fix them in the orbits of the Great.Therefore dull Zoilus, clamouring ascendant of the hour,Will soon be fain to hide his hate, and bury up his bitterness for shame:Therefore mocking Momus, offended at the footsteps of Beauty,Shall win the prize of his presumption, and be hooted from his throne among the stars.For, as the shadow of a mountain lengtheneth before the setting sun,Until that screening Alp have darkened all the canton,—So, Fame groweth to its great ones; their images loom longer in departing;But the shadow of mind is light, and earth is filled with its glory.
Smokingflax will breed a flame, and the flame may illuminate a world;
Where is he who scorned that smoke as foul and murky vapour?
The village stream swelled to a river, and the river was a kingdom's wealth,
Where is he who boasted he could step across that stream?
Such are the beginnings of the famous: little in the judgment of their peers,
The juster verdict of posterity shall fix them in the orbits of the Great.
Therefore dull Zoilus, clamouring ascendant of the hour,
Will soon be fain to hide his hate, and bury up his bitterness for shame:
Therefore mocking Momus, offended at the footsteps of Beauty,
Shall win the prize of his presumption, and be hooted from his throne among the stars.
For, as the shadow of a mountain lengtheneth before the setting sun,
Until that screening Alp have darkened all the canton,—
So, Fame groweth to its great ones; their images loom longer in departing;
But the shadow of mind is light, and earth is filled with its glory.
Andthou, student of the truth, commended to the praise of God,Wouldst thou find applause with men?—seek it not, nor shun it.Ancient fame is roofed in cedar, and her walls are marble;Modern fame lodgeth in a hut, a slight and temporary dwelling:Lay not up the treasures of thy soul within so damp a chamber,For the moth of detraction shall fret thy robe, and drop its eggs upon thy motive;Or the rust of disheartening reserve shall spoil the lustre of thy gold,Until its burnished beauty shall be dim as tarnished brass;Or thieves, breaking through to steal, shall claim thy jewelled thoughts,And turn to charge the theft on thee, a pilferer from them!
Andthou, student of the truth, commended to the praise of God,
Wouldst thou find applause with men?—seek it not, nor shun it.
Ancient fame is roofed in cedar, and her walls are marble;
Modern fame lodgeth in a hut, a slight and temporary dwelling:
Lay not up the treasures of thy soul within so damp a chamber,
For the moth of detraction shall fret thy robe, and drop its eggs upon thy motive;
Or the rust of disheartening reserve shall spoil the lustre of thy gold,
Until its burnished beauty shall be dim as tarnished brass;
Or thieves, breaking through to steal, shall claim thy jewelled thoughts,
And turn to charge the theft on thee, a pilferer from them!
Thereis a magnanimity in recklessness of fame, so fame be well deserving,That rusheth on in fearless might, the conscious sense of merit:And there is a littleness in jealousy of fame, looking as aware of weakness,That creepeth cautiously along, afraid that its title will be challenged.The wild boar, full of beechmast, flingeth him down among the brambles;Secure in bristly strength, without a watch, he sleepeth:But the hare, afraid to feed, croucheth in its own soft form;Wakefully with timid eyes, and quivering ears, he listeneth.Even so, a giant's might is bound up in the soul of Genius,His neck is strong with confidence, and he goeth tusked with power:Sturdily he roameth in the forest, or sunneth him in fen and field,And scareth from his marshy lair a host of fearful foes.But there is a mimic Talent, whose safety lieth in its quickness,A timorous thing of doubling guile, that scarce can face a friend:This one is captious of reproof, provident to snatch occasion,Greedy of applause, and vexed to lose one tittle of the glory.He is a poor warder of his fame, who is ever on the watch to keep it spotless;Such care argueth debility, a garrison relying on its sentinel.Passive strength shall scorn excuses, patiently waiting a re-action,He wotteth well that truth is great, and must prevail at last;But fretful weakness hasteth to explain, anxiously dreading prejudice,And ignorant that perishable falsehood dieth as a branch cut off.
Thereis a magnanimity in recklessness of fame, so fame be well deserving,
That rusheth on in fearless might, the conscious sense of merit:
And there is a littleness in jealousy of fame, looking as aware of weakness,
That creepeth cautiously along, afraid that its title will be challenged.
The wild boar, full of beechmast, flingeth him down among the brambles;
Secure in bristly strength, without a watch, he sleepeth:
But the hare, afraid to feed, croucheth in its own soft form;
Wakefully with timid eyes, and quivering ears, he listeneth.
Even so, a giant's might is bound up in the soul of Genius,
His neck is strong with confidence, and he goeth tusked with power:
Sturdily he roameth in the forest, or sunneth him in fen and field,
And scareth from his marshy lair a host of fearful foes.
But there is a mimic Talent, whose safety lieth in its quickness,
A timorous thing of doubling guile, that scarce can face a friend:
This one is captious of reproof, provident to snatch occasion,
Greedy of applause, and vexed to lose one tittle of the glory.
He is a poor warder of his fame, who is ever on the watch to keep it spotless;
Such care argueth debility, a garrison relying on its sentinel.
Passive strength shall scorn excuses, patiently waiting a re-action,
He wotteth well that truth is great, and must prevail at last;
But fretful weakness hasteth to explain, anxiously dreading prejudice,
And ignorant that perishable falsehood dieth as a branch cut off.
Purityof motive and nobility of mind shall rarely condescendTo prove its rights, and prate of wrongs, or evidence its worth to others.And it shall be small care to the high and happy conscienceWhat jealous friends, or envious foes, or common fools may judge.Should the lion turn and rend every snarling jackal,Or an eagle be stopt in his career to punish the petulance of sparrows?Should the palm-tree bend his crown to chide the briar at his feet,Nor kindly help its climbing, if it hope, and be ambitious?Should the nightingale account it worth her pains to vindicate her music,Before some sorry finches, that affect to judge of song?No: many an injustice, many a sneer, and slur,Is passed aside with noble scorn by lovers of true fame:For well they wot that glory shall be tinctured good or evil,By the character of those who give it, as wine is flavoured by the wineskin:So that worthy fame floweth only from a worthy fountain,But from an ill-conditioned troop the best report is worthless.And if the sensibility of genius count his injuries in secret,Wisely will he hide the pains a hardened herd would mock:For the great mind well may be sad to note such littleness in brethren,The while he is comforted and happy in the firmest assurance of desert.
Purityof motive and nobility of mind shall rarely condescend
To prove its rights, and prate of wrongs, or evidence its worth to others.
And it shall be small care to the high and happy conscience
What jealous friends, or envious foes, or common fools may judge.
Should the lion turn and rend every snarling jackal,
Or an eagle be stopt in his career to punish the petulance of sparrows?
Should the palm-tree bend his crown to chide the briar at his feet,
Nor kindly help its climbing, if it hope, and be ambitious?
Should the nightingale account it worth her pains to vindicate her music,
Before some sorry finches, that affect to judge of song?
No: many an injustice, many a sneer, and slur,
Is passed aside with noble scorn by lovers of true fame:
For well they wot that glory shall be tinctured good or evil,
By the character of those who give it, as wine is flavoured by the wineskin:
So that worthy fame floweth only from a worthy fountain,
But from an ill-conditioned troop the best report is worthless.
And if the sensibility of genius count his injuries in secret,
Wisely will he hide the pains a hardened herd would mock:
For the great mind well may be sad to note such littleness in brethren,
The while he is comforted and happy in the firmest assurance of desert.
Ceaseawhile, gentle scholar;—seek other thoughts and themes;Or dazzling Fame with wildfire light shall lure us on for ever.For look, all subjects of the mind may range beneath its banner,And time would fail and patience droop, to count that numerous host.The mine is deep, and branching wide,—and who can work it out?Years of thought would leave untold the boundless topic, Fame.Every matter in the universe is linked in suchwise unto others,That a deep full treatise upon one thing might reach to the history of all things:And before some single thesis had been followed out in all its branches,The wandering thinker would be lost in the pathless forest of existence.What were the matter or the spirit, that hath no part in Fame?Where were the fact irrelevant, or the fancy out of place?For the handling of that mighty theme should stretch from past to future,Catching up the present on its way, as a traveller burdened with time.All manner of men, their deeds, hopes, fortunes, and ambitions,All manner of events and things, climate, circumstance, and custom,Wealth and war, fear and hope, contentment, jealousy, devotion,Skill and learning, truth, falsehood, knowledge of things gone and things to come,Pride and praise, honour and dishonour, warnings, ensamples, emulations,The excellent in virtues, and the reprobate in vice, with the cloud of indifferent spectators,—Wave on wave with flooding force throng the shoals of thought,Filling that immeasurable theme, the height and depth of Fame.With soul unsatisfied and mind dismayed, my feet have touched the threshold,Fain to pour these flowers and fruits an offering on that altar:Lo, how vast the temple,—there are clouds within the dome!Yet might the huge expanse be filled, with volumes writ on Fame.
Ceaseawhile, gentle scholar;—seek other thoughts and themes;
Or dazzling Fame with wildfire light shall lure us on for ever.
For look, all subjects of the mind may range beneath its banner,
And time would fail and patience droop, to count that numerous host.
The mine is deep, and branching wide,—and who can work it out?
Years of thought would leave untold the boundless topic, Fame.
Every matter in the universe is linked in suchwise unto others,
That a deep full treatise upon one thing might reach to the history of all things:
And before some single thesis had been followed out in all its branches,
The wandering thinker would be lost in the pathless forest of existence.
What were the matter or the spirit, that hath no part in Fame?
Where were the fact irrelevant, or the fancy out of place?
For the handling of that mighty theme should stretch from past to future,
Catching up the present on its way, as a traveller burdened with time.
All manner of men, their deeds, hopes, fortunes, and ambitions,
All manner of events and things, climate, circumstance, and custom,
Wealth and war, fear and hope, contentment, jealousy, devotion,
Skill and learning, truth, falsehood, knowledge of things gone and things to come,
Pride and praise, honour and dishonour, warnings, ensamples, emulations,
The excellent in virtues, and the reprobate in vice, with the cloud of indifferent spectators,—
Wave on wave with flooding force throng the shoals of thought,
Filling that immeasurable theme, the height and depth of Fame.
With soul unsatisfied and mind dismayed, my feet have touched the threshold,
Fain to pour these flowers and fruits an offering on that altar:
Lo, how vast the temple,—there are clouds within the dome!
Yet might the huge expanse be filled, with volumes writ on Fame.
Musicis commended of the deaf:—but is that praise despised?I trow not: with flattered soul the musician heard him gladly.Beauty is commended of the blind:—but is that compliment misliking?I trow not: though false and insincere, woman listened greedily.Vacant Folly talketh high of Learning's deepest reason:Is she hated for her hollowness?—learning held her wiser for the nonce.The worldly and the sensual, to gain some end, did homage to religion:And the good man gave thanks as for a convert, where others saw the hypocrite.
Musicis commended of the deaf:—but is that praise despised?
I trow not: with flattered soul the musician heard him gladly.
Beauty is commended of the blind:—but is that compliment misliking?
I trow not: though false and insincere, woman listened greedily.
Vacant Folly talketh high of Learning's deepest reason:
Is she hated for her hollowness?—learning held her wiser for the nonce.
The worldly and the sensual, to gain some end, did homage to religion:
And the good man gave thanks as for a convert, where others saw the hypocrite.
Yetnone of these were cheated at the heart, nor steadily believed those flatteries;They feared the core was rotten, while they hoped the skin was sound:But the fruits have so sweet fragrance, and are verily so pleasant to the eyes,It were an ungracious disenchantment to find them apples of Sodom.So they laboured to think all honest, winking hard with both their eyes;And hushed up every whisper that could prove that praise absurd:They willingly regard not the infirmities that make such worship vain,And palliate to their own fond hearts the faults they will not see.For the idol rejoiceth in his incense, and loveth not to shame his suppliants,Should he seek to find them false, his honours die with theirs:An offering is welcome for its own sake, set aside the giver,And praise is precious to a man, though uttered by the parrot or the mocking-bird.
Yetnone of these were cheated at the heart, nor steadily believed those flatteries;
They feared the core was rotten, while they hoped the skin was sound:
But the fruits have so sweet fragrance, and are verily so pleasant to the eyes,
It were an ungracious disenchantment to find them apples of Sodom.
So they laboured to think all honest, winking hard with both their eyes;
And hushed up every whisper that could prove that praise absurd:
They willingly regard not the infirmities that make such worship vain,
And palliate to their own fond hearts the faults they will not see.
For the idol rejoiceth in his incense, and loveth not to shame his suppliants,
Should he seek to find them false, his honours die with theirs:
An offering is welcome for its own sake, set aside the giver,
And praise is precious to a man, though uttered by the parrot or the mocking-bird.