 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
Men of long silence, they will seldom speak
Till they are ready to strike; and so they held
Many a quiet meeting, letting not
A whisper of its purport from their lips,
Only they looked more grave than customary,
As they who have grave business on their hands.
In truth, they wist not what they ought to do:
The evil might be great; but then he was
So slight a man, so inconsiderable,
Unbeneficed, unpopular; and to break
A fly upon the wheel was apt to rouse
Unreasonable laughter, and such men
Like not such mirth. And then as to these views—
Who could pin down a shadow to the ground,
And take its measure? Who could try the notes
Of a wild bird by proper rhythmic laws?
Or say if the wind whistled by the gamut?
They understood not what he would be at:
A mystic, vague and unsubstantial, true
To no laws that they knew; but they were sure
That he was vain and foolish, and would melt
Like sugar in the mouth, and be forgot
Save by some sweet-toothed children. Let him be;
Contempt would kill that, like a nipping frost,
Which, grown notorious, might live on a while,
And work some mischief. They were very wise,
The portly cardinals, and yet they knew not
All that the future knew, and how the truth
Works sometimes from without as from within.
Till they are ready to strike; and so they held
Many a quiet meeting, letting not
A whisper of its purport from their lips,
Only they looked more grave than customary,
246
In truth, they wist not what they ought to do:
The evil might be great; but then he was
So slight a man, so inconsiderable,
Unbeneficed, unpopular; and to break
A fly upon the wheel was apt to rouse
Unreasonable laughter, and such men
Like not such mirth. And then as to these views—
Who could pin down a shadow to the ground,
And take its measure? Who could try the notes
Of a wild bird by proper rhythmic laws?
Or say if the wind whistled by the gamut?
They understood not what he would be at:
A mystic, vague and unsubstantial, true
To no laws that they knew; but they were sure
That he was vain and foolish, and would melt
Like sugar in the mouth, and be forgot
Save by some sweet-toothed children. Let him be;
Contempt would kill that, like a nipping frost,
Which, grown notorious, might live on a while,
And work some mischief. They were very wise,
The portly cardinals, and yet they knew not
All that the future knew, and how the truth
Works sometimes from without as from within.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |