66 And, while he paused bewildered, yet again 50 What seemed the substance of a happy dream To feel the guilt-born earthliness of shame. 60 Thus she began, dropping her low-toned words Serene, and full, and clear, as drops of dew, "And with it I am doomed to live and die; The rain and sunshine are my caterers, Nor have I other bliss than simple life; Now ask me what thou wilt, that I can give, And with a thankful joy it shall be thine." Then Rhocus, with a flutter at the heart, Yet, by the prompting of such beauty, bold, Answered: "What is there that can satisfy The endless craving of the soul but love? Give me thy love, or but the hope of that Which must be evermore my spirit's goal." After a little pause she said again, 70 But with a glimpse of sadness in her tone, "I give it, Rhocus, though a perilous gift; An hour before the sunset meet me here." And straightway there was nothing he could see But the green glooms beneath the shadowy oak, Now, in those days of simpleness and faith, Men did not think that happy things were dreams Because they overstepped the narrow bourne To be the guerdon of a daring heart. So Rhocus made no doubt that he was blest, And all along unto the city's gate Earth seemed to spring beneath him as he walked, 80 The clear, broad sky looked bluer than its wont, And he could scarce believe he had not wings, Such sunshine seemed to glitter through his veins Instead of blood, so light he felt and strange. Young Rhocus had a faithful heart enough, But one that in the present dwelt too much And, taking with blithe welcome whatsoe'er Chance gave of joy, was wholly bound in that, Like the contented peasant of a vale, 90 Deemed it the world, and never looked beyond. So, haply meeting in the afternoon Some comrades who were playing at the dice, He joined them and forgot all else beside. 100 The dice were rattling at the merriest, And Rhocus, who had met but sorry luck, Just laughed in triumph at a happy throw, When through the room there hummed a yellow bee That buzzed about his ear with down-dropped legs As if to light. And Rhocus laughed and said, Feeling how red and flushed he was with loss, "By Venus! does he take me for a rose?" And brushed him off with rough, impatient hand. But still the bee came back, and thrice again Rhocus did beat him off with growing wrath. Then through the window flew the wounded bee, And Rhocus, tracking him with angry eyes, 120 By the low sun thrown forward broad and dim, Darkened well-nigh unto the city's wall. Quite spent and out of breath he reached the And, listening fearfully, he heard once more hand: 66 Whereat he looked around him, but could see Naught but the deepening glooms beneath the oak. Then sighed the voice, "O Rhocus! nevermore Shalt thou behold me or by day or night, Me, who would fain have blessed thee with a love More ripe and bounteous than ever yet Filled up with nectar any mortal heart: But thou didst scorn my humble messenger, 130 And sent'st him back to me with bruisèd wings. We spirits only show to gentle eyes. We ever ask an undivided love, And he who scorns the least of Nature's works Is thenceforth exiled and shut out from all. more." 140 Then Rhocus beat his breast, and groaned And cried, "Be pitiful! forgive me yet This once, and I shall never need it more! "Alas!" the voice returned, "'t is thou art blind, Not I unmerciful; I can forgive, But have no skill to heal thy spirit's eyes; Only the soul hath power o'er itself." With that again there murmured “Never more!" And Rhocus after heard no other sound, The city sparkled with its thousand lights, Deepened, and on his forehead smote the breeze: 1843. 160 James Russell Lowell. THE BOY AND THE ANGEL MORNING, evening, noon and night, "Praise God!" sang Theocrite. Then to his poor trade he turned, Hard he labored, long and well; But ever, at each period, He stopped and sang, “ Praise God!" ∞ |