Example, but no meddling. See that hollow- Six picked-visaged, wan, bird-fingered wights All in their rough hair shirts, like hedgehogs starved- mother, And make them strong when weakest: So they settled: And starved and froze. Lew. Wal. Faith, that's true. snails, And dug and built, it seems. They have drawn a hamlet round; the slopes are blue Lew. I would speak to him— And learn his secret-We 'll await him here. Enter CONRAD. Con. Peace to you, reverend and war-worn knight, And you, fair youth, upon whose swarthy lip Blooms the rich promise of a noble manhood. Methinks, if simple monks may read your thoughts, Ye watch the labours of God's poor elect. Wal. Why-we were saying, how you cunning rooks Pitch as by instinct on the fattest fallows. Con. For He who feeds the ravens, promiseth Lew. In such a nook, now, To nestle from this noisy world Con. -And drop The burden of thyself upon the threshold. Lew. Think what rich dreams may haunt those lowly roofs ! Con. Rich dreams, and more; their dreams will find fulfilment Their discipline breeds strength-'Tis we alone Can join the patience of the laboring ox Unto the eagle's foresight, not a fancy Of ours, but grows in time to mighty deeds; Cast by for the next bauble! Lew. 'Tis too true! I dread no toil: toil is the true knight's pastime— To thee, cut off from life and love, whose powers What skill is there, to turn my faith to sight- Wal. And walk into the bog beneath your feet. From plough and loom the rank unlettered hinds, With love, more mighty than the sword; what, Count? Can teach you somewhat there too. Lew. Be it so; But love you have foresworn; and what were life Before God's image and his glory, best Revealed in woman's beauty? Con. Ah! poor worldlings! Little you dream what maddening ecstasies, Where peerless Mary, sun-enthroned, reigns, To bear her God athwart the floods of time! Con. She hath her train : There thou may'st choose thy love: If world-wide lore Shall please thee, and the Cherub's glance of fire, Let Catharine lift thy soul, and rapt with her Above Eulalia's tortured loveliness ; And for her sake, and in her strength, go forth For some rich heart, as deep in love as weakness, Lew. I do, I do. I'd live And die for each and all the three. Con. Then go Entangled in the Magdalen's tresses lie; Wal. Ay, catch his fever, Sir, and learn to take Come tell him, monk, about your magic gardens, Where not a stringy head of kale is cut But breeds a vision or a revelation. Lew. Hush, hush, Count! Speak, strange monk, strange words, and waken Longings more strange than either. Con. Then, if proved, As I dare vouch thee, loyal in thy love, Even to the Queen herself thy saintlier soul At length may soar: perchance-Oh, bliss too great Receive some token-smile-or hallowing touch Of that white hand, beneath whose soft caress The raging world is smoothed, and runs its course Lew. That were a knightly quest. Con. Thou dost tempt me— Ay, here's true love. Love's heaven, without its hell; the golden fruit Did crust it o'er with filth and selfishness. |