She endures; bravely bears every burden,
Dumb before the will of Fate bends low;
Lies her bliss the patient tranquil word in;
Her one cordial, feeling's overflow!
Preconviction--ah! the call, the token,
Spreading wings the darksome sky to cleave!
'Tis but boding! 'tis but knowledge broken!
Truth's but what she truly doth believe!
Darkness hides the goal of Psyche's mission;
For the eyes that tears so often gall
Reach not to the summit of completion
Where illusion's vaporous veil doth fall!
FROM CLAUDIUS.
THE MOTHER BY THE CRADLE
CONTENTMENT
_THE MOTHER BY THE CRADLE_.
Sleep, baby boy, sleep sweet, secure;
Thy father's very miniature!
That art thou, though thy father goes
And says that thou hast not his nose.
This very moment here was he,
His face o'er thine did pose
And said--Much has he sure of me,
But no, 'tis not my nose.
I think myself, it is too small,
But it is _his_ nose after all;
For if thy nose his nose be not,
Whence came the nose that thou hast got?
Sleep, boy! thy father only chose
To tease me--that's his part!
Never you mind about his nose,
But see you have his heart.
_CONTENTMENT_.
I am content. In triumph's tone
My song, let people know!
And many a mighty man, with throne
And sceptre, is not so.
And if he is, why then, I cry,
The man is just the same as I.
The Mogul's gold, the Sultan's show,
The hero's bliss, who, vext
To find no other world below,
Up to the moon looked next--
I'd none of them; for things like that
Are only fit for laughing at.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67