 | Ernest |  |
Thus foreweeningly
Had she set up her trust for the whole truth;
Rating all other unwelcome likelihood
At a straw's rate: nor minding that the young
Eye, from its rash self-will beholding all,
Not with the artifice and glass of Eld;
Eager, but inconsiderate of search,
Doth oft forerun wisdom with wishfulness,
Taking for gold sand-glitter, a wild hope
For toil-won harvestage. Such is youth's law.
But, for that law is not calf-bound in books,
Nor by the crier trumpeted abroad,
The hopeful matron never heeded it,
When 'twere most need. Yet something, of late time,
Had she mistrusted in the things she saw,
Watching more warily—and this out-flash,
So sudden, from her daughter's cloudiness,
And speechless sighs, lighted suspicion in
Where surety slept so long—she set herself,
Forthwith, to wring the spongy secret out;
And so had done; for with such hope at stake
A mother's head is hard, and maiden hearts
Are all as soft: so, what she could, she would,
Tho' with it she had wrung the life-blood forth
To its last drop. But he, on whose behalf
She was solicitous, sudden appeared,
While yet his noble name was in their ears,
Himself in nobler presence to their eyes,
Her life, her joy her own pride—Linsingen.
Had she set up her trust for the whole truth;
Rating all other unwelcome likelihood
At a straw's rate: nor minding that the young
Eye, from its rash self-will beholding all,
Not with the artifice and glass of Eld;
Eager, but inconsiderate of search,
Doth oft forerun wisdom with wishfulness,
Taking for gold sand-glitter, a wild hope
For toil-won harvestage. Such is youth's law.
But, for that law is not calf-bound in books,
Nor by the crier trumpeted abroad,
The hopeful matron never heeded it,
When 'twere most need. Yet something, of late time,
Had she mistrusted in the things she saw,
Watching more warily—and this out-flash,
So sudden, from her daughter's cloudiness,
And speechless sighs, lighted suspicion in
Where surety slept so long—she set herself,
Forthwith, to wring the spongy secret out;
And so had done; for with such hope at stake
A mother's head is hard, and maiden hearts
Are all as soft: so, what she could, she would,
Tho' with it she had wrung the life-blood forth
To its last drop. But he, on whose behalf
She was solicitous, sudden appeared,
While yet his noble name was in their ears,
Himself in nobler presence to their eyes,
Her life, her joy her own pride—Linsingen.
| Ernest | |