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When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sighed for thee;
I sighed for thee.
Wouldst thou me?
No, not thee!
Soon, too soon-
Come soon, soon!
POURQUOI la lumière est-elle donnée au malheureux,
Dieu a entouré d'un cercle fatal ?
13 K. Henry THIS battle fares like to the morning's war, VI at the When dying clouds contend with growing light; battle of
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day nor night.
like a mighty sea,
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
O God! methinks it were a happy life
How many make the hour full complete,
fools will yean;
what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovely!
it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.
Observe, however, that of man's whole terrestrial possessions and attainments, unspeakably the noblest are
his Symbols, divine or divine-seeming ; under which he marches and fights, with victorious assurance, in this lifebattle : what we can call his Realised Ideals. Of which realised Ideals, omitting the rest, consider only these two: his Church, or spiritual Guidance; his Kingship, or temporal one. The Church: what a word was there ; richer than Golconda and the treasures of the world! In the heart of the remotest mountains rises the little Kirk; the Dead all slumbering round it, under their white memorial-stones, 'in hope of a happy resurrection': Dull wert thou, . . if
hour .. it spoke to thee things unspeakable, that went to thy soul's soul. Strong was he that had a Church,—what we can call a Church: he stood thereby, though in the center of Immensities in the conflux of Eternities', yet manlike towards God and man; the vague shoreless Universe had become a firm city for him, a dwelling which he knew. Such virtue was in Belief; in these words well spoken : I believe. Well might men prize their Credo, and raise stateliest Temples for it, and reverend Hierarchies, and give it the tithe of their substance; it was worth living for and dying for
But of those decadent ages in which no Ideal either grows or blossoms? when Belief and Loyalty have passed away, and only the cant and false echo of them remains; and all Solemnity has become Pageantry; and the Creed of persons in authority, . . an Imbecility or a Machiavelism? Alas, of these ages World-history can take no notice; they have to be compressed more and more, and finally suppressed in the Annals of Mankind; blotted out as spurious,—which indeed they are. Hapless ages: wherein, if ever in any, it is an
unhappiness to be born. To be born, and to learn only,
VANITY of Vanities, saith the Preacher,
Vanity of Vanities, all is Vanity.
wherein he laboureth under the sun ?
and the earth abideth for ever.
and hasteth to the place where he ariseth.
and turneth round unto the north;
and on its rounds the wind returneth.
yet the sea is not full;
thither they return again.
man cannot utter it.
and that which is done is that which shall be done :
and there is nothing new under the sun. Is there anything whereof it may be said, See, this is new?
it hath already been in the ages that were before us.