 | Ernest |  |
His coming was unseen—but, ere he came,
The watch-dog bayed his welcome: that was enough
To hint him near at hand: for the dame's mind
With his loved likeness was so wholly filled,
That any far slight token seen or heard
She had asked, is it he? then were glad looks,
And words made kinder than their inhold was,
By the heart-breathing voice: greetings and smiles
Profuse, as from a mother to her son,
Long lost and late restored: high is the worth
That such sweet tokens of affection bear;
And yet, as Linsingen then reckoned them,
One only jewel tear, glittering in the eye
Of the soft maiden who stood silent there,
O'erpriced them all. That tear rose suddenly
From her troubled heart, as bubbles from the wave,
Betokening inward stir—but of that stir
Showing no sign, wherefore or whence it came,
No more than doth the rainbow. Yet 'twas a tear
Such as bedews the burning cheek of Love,
And being so, to Linsingen's belief,
It was not such alone; but the self-same—
So Love would have it. Well—Hail to thee, Faith,
For thou art happiness; thou feel'st in the heart,
What ownership weighs coldly in the hand,
And he who hath thee is blest—blest against all
The world without, as Linsingen was then.
For his head, what was it, but his glowing heart,
Brimful with its warm flood; and gushing o'er
Whither his fond faith willed. Truly could worth
Here in this world give warranty to man
Of welfare, then his faith had been fulfilled,
And would it were! Then Fortune, if for once
Her bandage were unblinded from her eyes
Could show no surer proof of random luck
Changed to discernment and considerate doom,
Than by her sanction of a soul like him
Crowning his highest hope—
The watch-dog bayed his welcome: that was enough
85
With his loved likeness was so wholly filled,
That any far slight token seen or heard
She had asked, is it he? then were glad looks,
And words made kinder than their inhold was,
By the heart-breathing voice: greetings and smiles
Profuse, as from a mother to her son,
Long lost and late restored: high is the worth
That such sweet tokens of affection bear;
And yet, as Linsingen then reckoned them,
One only jewel tear, glittering in the eye
Of the soft maiden who stood silent there,
O'erpriced them all. That tear rose suddenly
From her troubled heart, as bubbles from the wave,
Betokening inward stir—but of that stir
Showing no sign, wherefore or whence it came,
No more than doth the rainbow. Yet 'twas a tear
Such as bedews the burning cheek of Love,
And being so, to Linsingen's belief,
It was not such alone; but the self-same—
So Love would have it. Well—Hail to thee, Faith,
For thou art happiness; thou feel'st in the heart,
What ownership weighs coldly in the hand,
And he who hath thee is blest—blest against all
The world without, as Linsingen was then.
For his head, what was it, but his glowing heart,
Brimful with its warm flood; and gushing o'er
Whither his fond faith willed. Truly could worth
Here in this world give warranty to man
Of welfare, then his faith had been fulfilled,
And would it were! Then Fortune, if for once
Her bandage were unblinded from her eyes
Could show no surer proof of random luck
Changed to discernment and considerate doom,
Than by her sanction of a soul like him
Crowning his highest hope—
| Ernest | |