XXXII Not see? because of night perhaps?-why, day "Now stab and end the creature-to the heft!" XXXIII Not hear? when noise was everywhere! it tolled Lost, lost one moment knelled the woe of years. XXXIV There they stood, ranged along the hill-sides, met For one more picture! in a sheet of flame Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set, And blew "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came." A GRAMMARIAN'S FUNERAL. SHORTLY AFTER THE REVIVAL OF LEARNING IN EUROPE. LET us begin and carry up this Singing together. corpse, Leave we the common crofts, the vulgar thorpes, Each in its tether Sleeping safe in the bosom of the plain, Cared-for till cock-crow : Look out if yonder be not day again Rimming the rock-row ! That's the appropriate country; there, man's thought, Rarer, intenser, Self-gathered for an outbreak, as it ought, Chafes in the censer. Leave we the unlettered plain its herd and crop ; On a tall mountain, citied to the top, All the peaks soar, but one the rest excels; No, yonder sparkle is the citadel's Thither our path lies; wind we up the heights Our low life was the level's and the night's : Step to a tune, square chests, erect each head, This is our master, famous, calm and dead, Sleep, crop and herd! sleep, darkling thorpe and croft Safe from the weather! He, whom we convoy to his grave aloft, Singing together, He was a man born with thy face and throat, Long he lived nameless: how should spring take note Till lo, the little touch, and youth was gone! Cramped and diminished, Moaned he, "New measures, other feet anon! "My dance is finished?" No, that's the world's way; (keep the mountain-side, Make for the city!) He knew the signal, and stepped on with pride Left play for work, and grappled with the world "What's in the scroll," quoth he, "thou keepest furled? "Show me their shaping, "Theirs who most studied man, the bard and sage,— "Give!"-So, he gowned him, Straight got by heart that book to its last page: Yea, but we found him bald too, eyes like lead, "Time to taste life," another would have said, This man said rather, " Actual life comes next? "Patience a moment! "Grant I have mastered learning's crabbed text, "Still there's the comment. "Let me know all! Prate not of most or least, "Painful or easy! Even to the crumbs I 'd fain eat up the feast, "Ay, nor feel queasy." Oh, such a life as he resolved to live, When he had learned it, When he had gathered all books had to give! Sooner, he spurned it. Image the whole, then execute the parts Fancy the fabric Quite, ere you build, ere steel strike fire from quartz, (Here's the town-gate reached ; there's the market-place Gaping before us.) Yea, this in him was the peculiar grace (Hearten our chorus !) That before living he 'd learn how to live No end to learning: Earn the means first--God surely will contrive Others mistrust and say, "But time escapes! "Live now or never!" He said, "What's time? Leave Now for dogs and apes! "Man has Forever." Back to his book then: deeper drooped his head : Leaden before, his eyes grew dross of lead : "Now, master, take a little rest!"-not he! Step two a-breast, the way winds narrowly!) Back to his studies, fresher than at first, He (soul-hydroptic with a sacred thirst) Oh, if we draw a circle premature, Greedy for quick returns of profit, sure Was it not great? did not he throw on God God's task to make the heavenly period Did not he magnify the mind, show clear He would not discount life, as fools do here, Paid by instalment. He ventured neck or nothing-heaven's success "Wilt thou trust death or not?" He answered "Yes! "Hence with life's pale lure!" That low man seeks a little thing to do, Sees it and does it : This high man, with a great thing to pursue, That low man goes on adding one to one, This high man, aiming at a million, Misses an unit. That, has the world here—should he need the next, This, throws himself on God, and unperplexed So, with the throttling hands of death at strife, Still, thro' the rattle, parts of speech were rife· He settled Hoti's business—let it be !— Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De, Well, here 's the platform, here's the proper place: All ye highfliers of the feathered race, Here's the top-peak; the multitude below This man decided not to Live but Know— Bury this man there? Here-here's his place, where meteors shoot, clouds form, Lightnings are loosened, Stars come and go! Let joy break with the storm, Peace let the dew send ! Lofty designs must ciose in like effects: Loftily lying, Leave him-still loftier than the world suspects, Living and dying. |