121And points their hatred; but applauds their tears. Justice, who came not up to us thro’ life, Loves to survey our likeness on our tombs, When rivalry, malevolence, and wrath, And every passion that once stormed around, Is calm alike without them as within. Our very chains make the whole world our own, Bind those to us who else had past us by, Those at whose call brought down to us, the light Of future ages lives upon our name.

p. 121

Muza. I may accelerate that meteor’s fall, And quench that idle ineffectual light Without the knowledge of thy distant world.

Jul. My world and thine are not that distant one. Is age less wise, less merciful, than grief, To keep this secret from thee, poor old man? Thou canst not lessen, canst not aggravate My sufferings, canst not shorten nor extend Half a sword’s length between my God and me. I thank thee for that better thought than fame, p. 122Which none however, who deserve, despise, Nor lose from view till all things else are lost.

p. 122

Abd. Julian, respect his age, regard his power. Many who feared not death, have dragged along A piteous life in darkness and in chains. Never was man so full of wretchedness But something may be suffered after all, Perhaps in what clings round his breast, and helps To keep the ruin up, which he amidst His agony and phrenzy overlooks, But droops upon at last, and clasps, and dies.

Jul. Altho’ a Muza send far underground, Into the quarry whence the palace rose, His mangled prey, climes alien and remote Mark and record the pang; while overhead Perhaps he passes on his favorite steed, Less heedful of the misery he inflicts Than of the expiring sparkle from a stone, Yet we, alive or dead, have fellow men If ever we have served them, who collect p. 123From prisons and from dungeons our remains, And bear them in their bosom to their sons. Man’s only reliques are his benefits; These, be there ages, be there worlds, between, Retain him in communion with his kind: Hence is our solace, our security, Our sustenance, till heavenly truth descends— Losing in brightness and beatitude The frail foundations of these humbler hopes— And, like an angel, guiding us, at once Leaves the loose chain and iron gate behind.

p. 123

Muza. Take thou my justice first, then hope for theirs. I, who can bend the living to my will, Fear not the dead, and court not the unborn: Their arm will never reach me, nor shall thine.

 Prev. P 54/57 next