 | Ernest |  |
Oft had that dame discoursed
(For sorrow from its darkness loves to look
Up to the slightest chink that lets light in,
And with it hope,) of the young Linsingen,
His wealth, his youth, his looks, his forefathers,
All that commends to man in the eyes of world
Wisdom: she spoke; and her fair daughter heard,
And, haply, listened; but, it might well be,
Felt not at all; or feel whate'er she might
'Twas no such feeling as her mother would.
Enough. Her after woes will trace their way
Clearer than words. Only thus much is sure.
That this most wary mother, knowing well
That Love, when scant, is but a beggar boy,
And, likely, wretched in his beggary,
Wretched the more as waking from rich dreams;
This having learned, as trial taught her truth,
Not knowingly alone, but feelingly,
In daily desolation of her heart;
Fain would she compensate her own sad chance
With a golden wedlock for her child achieved;
Its substance for her child, and for herself,
Its rich reflected radiance, happier yet,
To be the comfort of her later life.
Therefore on Hermann, so bethinking her,
Cold was her countenance, as being one
Who must win wealth, if ever, by self-will
And strength, no other likelihood—but then
His lofty hopes, o'erlooking his own ends,
Aimed mainly at the welfare of mankind,
A mark tho' fair, yet barren, cold, far off,
As a lone glacier—rich with many rills
To fertilize and bless the nether earth,
But fruitless for itself.
(For sorrow from its darkness loves to look
Up to the slightest chink that lets light in,
83
His wealth, his youth, his looks, his forefathers,
All that commends to man in the eyes of world
Wisdom: she spoke; and her fair daughter heard,
And, haply, listened; but, it might well be,
Felt not at all; or feel whate'er she might
'Twas no such feeling as her mother would.
Enough. Her after woes will trace their way
Clearer than words. Only thus much is sure.
That this most wary mother, knowing well
That Love, when scant, is but a beggar boy,
And, likely, wretched in his beggary,
Wretched the more as waking from rich dreams;
This having learned, as trial taught her truth,
Not knowingly alone, but feelingly,
In daily desolation of her heart;
Fain would she compensate her own sad chance
With a golden wedlock for her child achieved;
Its substance for her child, and for herself,
Its rich reflected radiance, happier yet,
To be the comfort of her later life.
Therefore on Hermann, so bethinking her,
Cold was her countenance, as being one
Who must win wealth, if ever, by self-will
And strength, no other likelihood—but then
His lofty hopes, o'erlooking his own ends,
Aimed mainly at the welfare of mankind,
A mark tho' fair, yet barren, cold, far off,
As a lone glacier—rich with many rills
To fertilize and bless the nether earth,
But fruitless for itself.
| Ernest | |