第64章

Alone! no climber of an Alpine cliff, No Arctic venturer on the waveless sea, Feels the dread stillness round him as it chills The heart of him who leaves the slumbering earth To watch the silent worlds that crowd the sky.

Alone! And as the shepherd leaves his flock To feed upon the hillside, he meanwhile Finds converse in the warblings of the pipe Himself has fashioned for his vacant hour, So have I grown companion to myself, And to the wandering spirits of the air That smile and whisper round us in our dreams.

Thus have I learned to search if I may know The whence and why of all beneath the stars And all beyond them, and to weigh my life As in a balance, poising good and ill Against each other,-asking of the Power That flung me forth among the whirling worlds, If I am heir to any inborn right, Or only as an atom of the dust That every wind may blow where'er it will.

I am not humble; I was shown my place, Clad in such robes as Nature had at hand;Took what she gave, not chose; I know no shame, No fear for being simply what I am.

I am not proud, I hold my every breath At Nature's mercy.I am as a babe Borne in a giant's arms, he knows not where;Each several heart-beat, counted like the coin A miser reckons, is a special gift As from an unseen hand; if that withhold Its bounty for a moment, I am left A clod upon the earth to which I fall.

Something I find in me that well might claim The love of beings in a sphere above This doubtful twilight world of right and wrong;Something that shows me of the self-same clay That creeps or swims or flies in humblest form.

Had I been asked, before I left my bed Of shapeless dust, what clothing I would wear, I would have said, More angel and less worm;But for their sake who are even such as I, Of the same mingled blood, I would not choose To hate that meaner portion of myself Which makes me brother to the least of men.

I dare not be a coward with my lips Who dare to question all things in my soul;Some men may find their wisdom on their knees, Some prone and grovelling in the dust like slaves;Let the meek glow-worm glisten in the dew;I ask to lift my taper to the sky As they who hold their lamps above their heads, Trusting the larger currents up aloft, Rather than crossing eddies round their breast, Threatening with every puff the flickering blaze.

My life shall be a challenge, not a truce!

This is my homage to the mightier powers, To ask my boldest question, undismayed By muttered threats that some hysteric sense Of wrong or insult will convulse the throne Where wisdom reigns supreme; and if I err, They all must err who have to feel their way As bats that fly at noon; for what are we But creatures of the night, dragged forth by day, Who needs must stumble, and with stammering steps Spell out their paths in syllables of pain ?

Thou wilt not hold in scorn the child who dares Look up to Thee, the Father,--dares to ask More than Thy wisdom answers.From Thy hand The worlds were cast; yet every leaflet claims >From that same hand its little shining sphere Of star-lit dew; thine image, the great sun, Girt with his mantle of tempestuous flame, Glares in mid-heaven; but to his noontide blaze The slender violet lifts its lidless eye, And from his splendor steals its fairest hue, Its sweetest perfume from his scorching fire.

I may just as well stop here as anywhere, for there is more of the manuscript to come, and I can only give it in instalments.

The Young Astronomer had told me I might read any portions of his manuscript I saw fit to certain friends.I tried this last extract on the old Master.

It's the same story we all have to tell,--said he, when I had done reading.---We are all asking questions nowadays.I should like to hear him read some of his verses himself, and I think some of the other boarders would like to.I wonder if he wouldn't do it, if we asked him! Poets read their own compositions in a singsong sort of way; but they do seem to love 'em so, that I always enjoy it.It makes me laugh a little inwardly to see how they dandle their poetical babies, but I don't let them know it.We must get up a select party of the boarders to hear him read.We'll send him a regular invitation.I will put my name at the head of it, and you shall write it.

--That was neatly done.How I hate writing such things! But Isuppose I must do it.