BERTRAM AND LORENZO.

A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT.

By Charles Sangster


 

BERTRAM AND LORENZO.

A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT.




SCENE I.


A picturesque Valley.  A range of Mountains in the back-     ground.  Cascade, falling into a waveless
Lake at the base of     the cliff.  Time, Evening.


BERTRAM.


This is a lonely place.


LORENZO.


                                       Call it not lonely;
Say, rather, that the God of Nature hath
Peopled these wilds with spiritual forms,
With which the man of an exalted mind

Can hold sweet converse in his studious hours.

5

Survey these hills!  mark the immensity,
The wild sublimity, of those high mountains,
That with their purple summits pierce the skies,
Ev’n to the heavens above them, till they seem

Divested of their earthly coloring,

10

And clothed with an ethereal loveliness,
Soft as the drapery of the twilight robe
Thrown o’er the shoulders of voluptuous eve.
Behold the cataract, panting with alarm,

Leaping with frantic bound from rock to rock,

15

As leaps the lama o’er Peruvian hills, [Page 239]
When at its heels the mountain-hunter comes,
His quiver filled with death.  Struggling with fate,
The tortured waters pause upon the verge

Of yonder rock, then spring into the gulf,

20

Rejoicing at the bound, as, all adorned
With gold-bedrizzled locks, the stricken flood
Shakes its white mane, and speeds adown the stream,
Like to an expert swimmer, hale and young,

Stunning the billows with his manly limbs.

25

See how the Iris blushes at its feet,
Enveloped in the white arms of the spray,
Through which, ghost-like, its delicate pulse is seen
To throb responsive to the heaving breast

Of the pale vapour spirit, in whose arms

30

|It lies, all blushes, like a timid maid
Enfolded in her lover’s chaste embrace.
The trees that nod upon the piney height;
The humble shrubbery that men pass by

Unnoticed; the soft moss that grows upon

35

The flinty granite; the pale, meek-eyed flower,
Half hidden by the rank, luxuriant weeds,
Like full-blown Innocence in a world of Sin;
The unformed buds; the golden-veinéd leaves

That strew the brown soil of the autumn woods;

40

The birds that nestle closely in the grass,
Or chirrup forth a note for every beat
Of their impulsive, overflowing hearts;
Do each and all possess a powerful claim

Upon the sober mind. [Page 240]


BERTRAM.


                                     Give me the town,
45

Old man; its gay delights are more to me
Than all the paltry beauties of this place,
Which thou so much admirest.  I would die
If I were banished to a place like this,
So lonely that my very nature shrinks

50

Within me at the thought of being here.
For thee, it may have charms enough to please
A spirit like to thine, bowed down with age;
To me, the prospect is most terrible;
’Tis lonely as a world without one’s fellows

55

Can be.


LORENZO.


               Young man, thou dost not know the peace
That falls upon the spirit in these wilds,
Like gentle dew upon the parchéd leaf.
Learn to aspire to God; clutch at the stars;
Give thy ambition wings; from world to world

60

Mount bravely upwards, until, like the lark,
Thou disappearest in the infinity
That ends in heaven.  Make the stars thy friends
Soar to their brilliant homes on wings of thought,
Or mould them to thy will upon the earth,

65

By careful study; like the falcon, mount,
And strike the quarry in the circling air,
Though it quadruple thee in magnitude.
Then wilt thou feel the noble aspirations
Which I am yearning for; then wilt thou pause, [Page 241]

70

Ere thy sense give permission to thy tongue
To say—this place is lonely.  None dread more
Than I the thought of utter loneliness;
It is a treacherous cankerworm that feeds
Upon the flowery garden of the mind,

75

And leaves it seared and blighted; has its home
In the dark cell of the lean anchorite,
Who for some crime would torture his poor body
To purge his soul.  But to be lonely here,
Where every breeze that passeth by interprets

80

God’s everlasting, all-pervading truths
Unto our inmost souls; where we can feast
Our hungry mind’s eye on the rich repast
Which the wild wilderness contains; is to
Be blind—insensible—to all the beauty

85

Which nature hath in vast profusion strewn,
With an unsparing hand, about our path.
Give me the place where I can hold communion
With Nature and with Nature’s God; where I
Can analyze the secrets of my mind,

90

And pluck therefrom the rank, luxuriant weeds,
Which from my birth have been implanted there,
And sow some healthy seedlings in their stead,
From which will spring a ripe ambrosial fruit
That angels might partake of.


BERTRAM.


                                                    Singular mortal!

95

Why! I would rather tread the pleasing halls
Where such light-hearted fellows as myself [Page 242]
Had learned to kill the pleasure-wingéd hours
With dance and song, than listen to the ravings
Of an enthusiast.  I’d rather be

100

A playful kid—a kitten—a young widow,
Be anything that trips it joyously
Over the many ups and downs of life,
Than an ascetic mortal like to thee.


LORENZO.


Yet all of these which thou hast named, are prone

105

To aspire to certain ends: The kid will climb
The steepest rocks, and ’mid the grandest scenes
Of nature live, forgetful of its fellows;
The kitten, sporting by its mother’s side,
Will leave her to ascend the tottering pole,

110

While tabby purs below, and gravely scans
Th’ ambitious feats of her young progeny;
The gay young widow wears a pleasing face,
And aims at winning a becoming mate,
To ease her poignant sorrow.  But for thee,

115

Thou dost aspire to nothing!  hast no aim,
But that of being pleased with endless dances—
The ball room is the goal of thy ambition!
This is trifling too much with thy existence.
In early youth I shared in all the joys

120

Which thou hast named, but took no real pleasure
In them.  Ever before my eyes there stood
The ladder of my thoughts, where angels came
And went, like the Aurora in the North,
And by whose aid I had resolved to climb [Page 243]

125

To something greater than I yet had been,
And step by step to struggle to the top,
Or tumble headlong from the wild ascent.
I’d many lofty thoughts, but one there was,
Like snow-crowned Jura ’mongst his subject Alps,

130

Catching the sun’s first rays; the moon and stars
Sent down their silver-pluméd messengers,
Whose smiles did keep it in perpetual light,
While all else lay in twilight: one great thought,
A kingly oak within a field of shrubs.

135

If thou wouldst be a Teacher, school thyself;
The Mind of a Man is as a crucible
Which the Great Giver fills with Golden Thought,
Tis human nature which supplies the dross;
But the same nature with that aid divine

140

Which all must seek who would live nigh to God,
Is a most subtle Alchymist, whose skill
Turns Error’s dross to Truth’s refinéd gold.
Seek Truth in time.  The well is deep, my friend.
See that she pass thee not upon the way.

145

Man never sought for Truth and found her not.
The diver may not seize the largest pearl
At the first dip, nor yet in many years,
But every hair of his devoted head
Flings back a pearl into the deep again,

150

As full of beauty as the one he sought,
While he, all resolute, re-seeks the gem.
In searching for the one great Truth, beware
Lest thou reject the lesser truths which heaven [Page 244]
Profusely scatters in thy daily path.

155

I’d rather mould one burning Star of Thought,
Whose light would centre in some darkened mind,
Make some lone heart a peopled universe,
Lit by the smile of God’s immeasured love,
Than sway the sceptres of an hundred thrones,

160

Or boast the wealth of Crœsus ten times told.


BERTRAM.


Old man! Your words, like sparks from stubborn flint,
Descend in brilliant showers on my brain,
Which like the earnest tinder cannot fail
To catch therefrom some gleams of inspiration,

165

Almost unwillingly.  Already do
I wander in my purpose, to begone
To the ephemeral sports that make my life
One round of giddy pleasure.  Did I stay,
I might forget the utter loneliness

170

Of the place, while confounded by thy speech;
I must away at once.


LORENZO.


                                    Not yet awhile.
I’ve a surprise in store for thee, if thou
Canst bear it.  I would fain convince thee, friend,
That God sits throned upon these lofty wilds,

175

And prove to thy half-unbelieving mind
That the still voice of august nature speaks
Audibly and incessantly to man.
Let’s to the mountains. [Page 245]


BERTRAM.


                                        Well; to please thee, yes.
Age has its whims, which youth must knuckle to,

180

Or bide by the displeasure of its seniors.



SCENE II.


Midway up a rugged Mountain. Pathway rough and wearisome.


BERTRAM.


Old man, I’m tired!  How can you foot it so
Over these rough and dangerous crags? my life
Upon it, I’ll not be so easily caught
Another time.


LORENZO.


                        Rebellious boy! dost think
The things that are worth seeking for

5

Can be procured without a little trouble?—
An extra thought, perchance—a step or two.
And yet, the worldly man, in peevish plight,
Frets, if the attainment of most perfect bliss
Would lead him off the paltry jig-jog path

10

Of every-day life.  Dost thou hope for heaven?


BERTRAM.


Yes.  But why ask a question of such import?
We all do hope to reach that bourne at last. [Page 246]


LORENZO.


Prepare then to encounter many obstacles
During thy journey thither.  There’s a vale

15

Darker than death, through which we needs must pass,
Where spirits from the abodes of wretchedness
Contest the passage with each weary pilgrim
Who enters it.  Scorn not to learn from this,
That, to ensure our happiness, we must

20

Submit to all the sad perplexities
That lay before us.  We must learn to conquer
Each evil though and passion that waylay us,
’T will make the bliss laid up in store for us
The richer gain when earned by our good deeds.

25


Enter several Peasants on their way up the Mountain.


FIRST PEASANT.


Ha! our old friend! whither away so late?
Dost come to spend the night with us?


LORENZO.


                                                                  Many thanks.
This youth and I return again, so soon
As we have learned our lesson.  Good even, friends!


           [Salutes the other Peasants, who return it warmly.


FIRST PEASANT.


See, brothers, how the red-hot sun goes down,

30

Burning a steep path through the hissing wave,
That flames around him with a torrid heat, [Page 247]
Like a huge cauldron boiling o’er with gold
And purple foam.  I remember, when a boy,
Climbing with desperate effort to the top

35

Of the mountain, to watch him rise and set.


SECOND PEASANT.


It is a blessed sight.


THIRD PEASANT.


                                   But, brothers, see
How yon small cloud is spreading o’er the sky!
And, hark! the distant thunder warns us home.


FOURTH PEASANT.


To our homes, then; our homes and happy hearths.

40

ALL THE PEASANTS.


Yes, to our homes; our homes and happy wives.
Farewell kind friends.


[To BERTRAM and LORENZO.
Beware the coming storm                    .
[Exeunt Peasants.


BERTRAM.


Who are these men?


LORENZO.


                                   The dwellers in the mountains,
As happy fellows as the sun e’er shone on.
But haste; the gath’ring storm may overtake us,

45

Ere we can reach the place I had intended
To lead thee to.


BERTRAM.


                            Where wouldst thou lead me, friend? [Page 248]


LORENZO.


To happiness.


BERTRAM.


                       The distance is great.
I rather would return.


LORENZO.


                                 There’s but one road
To happiness—the upward path, by which

50

We must ascend the often dreamed-of height,
And gaze exultingly on all below.


BERTRAM.


The moth, by struggling upward to the taper,
Scorches its wings, and often perisheth
While searching for the light.


LORENZO.


                                              And so wouldst thou

55

Risk life and limb, if thou shouldst venture downwards.
As for thine image of the moth, ’tis like
As if a man, who, standing on the brink
Of a steep precipice, should sway his arms,
And springing upwards try to clutch the sun;

60

Or one, who, leaning o’er Vesuvius’ edge,
Should seek to leap across its gaping mouth
By one bold spring, and perish like a fool.
A little further up, and we are safe.
The storm will surely come. These shepherds are

65

Unfailing oracles. [Page 249]


BERTRAM.


                              If we must go,
Lead on, old man.  How all my witty friends
Would hurl their puns and pointed epigrams
At me, if they but knew the foolish journey
I am performing, half against my will;

70

For there’s a something in this old man’s manner
That make me think both well and ill of him;
I’ll either hate or love him by and by.            (Aside.)



SCENE III.


The summit of a high mountain, looking Westward. —
Time,     Sunset.


LORENZO.


Come, let us rest awhile, since we have gained
The summit of the mountain.  See, the sun
Is disappearing through the western wave,
Like a strong diver going down for pearls,
Or a young bridegroom eloquent with joy,

5

Seeking the chamber where his soul’s beloved
Sits in her bridal robes.  A moment more
He will had canopied some other clime
With his rich tent of gold, and drawn aside
The sable curtains of polluted Night

10

From some fair country that we wot not of.


BERTRAM.


But what has this to do with our journey
Hither?  And where is the surprise you had [Page 250]
In store for me?  I will be getting lonely,
And insist on returning ere the night

15

Sets in.


LORENZO.


              Impossible! You cannot find
Your way.  The path is rough and intricate
By which we came; and to return by that,
You would require a guide, to whom these wilds
Had grown familiar, to conduct you safely

20

To the plain.  Stay for a little moment here.
We will return together.  Hark! the thunder.


BERTRAM.


There are no clouds above us, yet I hear
The thunder rolling in tremendous volleys,
But muffled, as if passing through the hills.

25


LORENZO.


Let us approach the mountain’s edge, and look
Upon the storm.

                                                                  [They approach the verge of the mountain, and                                    look down.


                               Observe the passionate clouds,
Struggling like giant wrestling-groups in all
The grandeur of an elemental strife!
See how yon mass of fiery vapour writhes

30

In agony, like a flame-enveloped fiend,
And bursts asunder with a fearful crash,
That fills the pitying heavens with alarm,
And shakes the massive crag on which we stand. [Page 251]
Mark well the conflict—nay, you need not shrink,

35

Methought I saw you tremble as you gazed;
There is no danger here.  The eagle builds
Its solid eyrie far above the storm,
And round about us sits the Roman bird,
Watching the air-drawn battle, as when perched

40

Upon the flaunting standard once upraised
On Carthagenian fields.  The storm is far
Beneath us.  I can call to mind the time—
The very day—the heaven-pilfered hour,
When my young soul first left its body-load,

45

And made it wings and mingled with the storm,
Ev’n as the headlong warrior leaps in
Where dangers threaten, thick as summer rain,
Each charged with death.  A sublime awe swept o’er me;
I trembled with delight; shouted for joy;

50

The lightning’s kiss was hot upon my cheek;
The thunder pealed its anthems in my ears,—
Deep, sublime melodies! and my spirit felt
Ethereal, as if a veil of light,
By angels borne from God’s remotest home,

55

Had clothed it ready for a joy eterne.
Awed by the fervency of my wild thoughts,
I knelt, and with uplifted hands poured out
My unspoken prayers to God.  My thankful soul
Was filled with an unstudied eloquence,

60

Which my lips dared not utter.  The profound
And many-voicéd thunder; the red waves,
That spewed forth lightning, as a furnace fire; [Page 252]
The charging squadrons of impatient clouds,
Those burning steeds and riders of the storm,

65

That neighed in thunder and breathed breaths of flame,
Conspired to fill me with intense delight,
As boundless as the rapture of the winds,
Seated at midnight on the tempest car,
When heaven lifts her white hands to her face

70

To hide her eyes.  Upon this very spot
I stood with vacant, greedy looks, and watched
The mighty conflict going on below:
And yet, thou’dst rather dance a tiresome measure
To a crack’d violin, than read the precious truths

75

Of these romantic wilds.  Are they not lonely?
These mountain summits and deep forests, where
You seem to catch the echoings of strains
That were rehearsed in heaven at the birth
Of the old world, of which this earth, mayhap,

80

Is but a fragment.  Oh!  those glorious songs!
Their echoes cannot die, but seem to float,
Like vapours, through the air for evermore.
The poet seizes oft their wondrous plaint,
And ever after earth has one voice more

85

To magnify the Author of all Good.


BERTRAM.


Old man, you mock me.  I can now discern
How such a soul as thine is elevated
Above the world and its ephemeral pleasures.
Henceforward I’ll participate with thee [Page 253]

90

In these ethereal blessings.  I’ll be all
That thou couldst wish for in amateur;
And you will find me a devoted pupil,
If you will lead me in the way to wisdom.
Oft have I heard of a discreet old man,

95

With whom the peasants had conversed, who lived,
Or rather had been seen, upon the mountain.
I wondered how their kindly hearts did warm,
And they grew eloquent, in praise of thee;
But now my doubts are gone, and I can well

100

Appreciate the generosity—
For such I deemed it—of these simple rustics.
If I become a ready listener
To the immortal truths that thou canst teach me,
Must I relinquish all the harmless pleasures

105

That I had previously indulged in?


LORENZO.


                                                         No,
Not one of them.  Use them in moderation.
Devote some moments of thy little life
To learning what may be of benefit
To thee hereafter.  But I would not ask

110

That thou shouldst ape the moody devotee,
And live apart from all thy fellow men.
Far rather would I have thee still remain
A trifling mortal, pleased with empty show,
And gilded vanity, than encourage thee

115

To be a soulless hermit.  There are times [Page 254]
When gaiety is useful to the wisest;
And cheerfulness is fraught with many blessings,
If we survey it rightly.  See! the storm
Is over, and the heavens are bent down

120

Beneath the weight of their bejewelled robes.
The moon, like to a royal traveller,
Her silver-chariot axle-deep in stars,
Rides the burning labyrinth of worlds,
A queen amongst her subjects; while the sea

125

Beyond us is irradiated with
The silver sparkles from her eloquent eyes,
That make a path of light from heaven to earth.
The solemn glories of the sun and moon,
The silver-dappled heavens, the huge sea—

130

These thou must learn to study, for their wealth
Or earnest truth, sublimity and love,
When I initiate thee into all
My plans of happiness.  Now for the surprise.
Look at the Old Man now.

[Removes a disguise.           

BERTRAM.


                                                 My friend Lorenzo!

135

LOREZNO.


Thy youthful friend, whom thou didst call a bookworm,
Because he would not always be a trifler,
And loved to ponder on the intrinsic lore
Of poets and philosophers.  I am
The solitary Hermit of the Hills, [Page 255]

140

As these warm-hearted peasants choose to call me;
And I would have thee be a hermit, too,
Occasionally.  Thou shalt come with me,
And see the free-born mountaineers at eve,
Offering up their earnest, heart-felt thanks,

145

To the Supreme Intelligence of Heaven;
Shalt hear their old men read the sacred Word;
Their manly youths, and rosy-featured maidens,
Blending their voices in an evening hymn;
Shall see the happiest mortals upon earth,

150

And learn to imitate them—if thou wilt.
    See yonder cottage in the dreamy vale,
On which the moonlight, like the smile of God,
So sweetly rests.  There dwells a Poet-soul;
One who has pass’d through stern Affliction’s blaze,

155

And had his great heart purified by pain.
He was a Monarch in the Halls of Love.
Love crowned him as a nation crown a King.
His queen, a rural beauty, by his side,
What wonder if he looked from his high throne

160

Upon the world, and claimed it as his own?
She loved him for his uncoined wealth of words,
That lay in the rich mine of his brain, like pearls
That hoard their lustre in a cave o’ the sea.
He had great soul-thoughts floating in his eyes,

165

Like ships gem-laden on an Indian ocean,
And soft-voiced messengers, with gentle wings,
Soared through his mind, and made him rich in fancies,
As is a miser o’er his wealth of gold. [Page 256]
She loved to mark the lightning of his eye,

170

And list the mighty thunder of his speech,
That followed the electric fancy-storm,
Even as loves the hardy mountaineer,
Trained amid God’s glory-haunted hills,
To trace the storm that rides the Appenines,

175

And bursts in fearful splendor at his feet.
She hung upon his lips, as hangs the bee
Upon the trembling rose-bud, flushed with sweets,
Like Beauty leaning forward for the kiss,
Of some impassioned lover, nectar-wild,

180

Quaffing his honied breath.  Her fingers toyed
With his long locks of gold, that lay like waves
Of yellow sun-curls dancing on the lea,
Decking the bust of evening: and in each,
With true-love’s spiritual, dreamy eyes,

185

She seemed to trace some intellectual thought,
Some beauteous reflex of his glowing soul,
In which his Prophet-spirit, Titan-like,
Loomed up majestic, clothed with Virtue’s robes,
And he, the Adam of her Eve-like heart,

190

To her eyes, seemed the embodiment of all
The sterling mental manhood of the time,
A golden mouthed Chrysostum, brimmed with Truth,
And revelations of a coming age
Replete with saving glory and deep Love.

195

These Alpine heights were his, for he had struck
From out their flinty sides a flame of song,
That burned within the breasts of mountaineers, [Page 257]
And made them love their country more and more.
But while he sung, triumphant as the lark,

200

The tongue of Slander struck his spirit dumb—
For these young Poets are as sensitive
To pain, as the warm morning cloudlets are
To the consuming splendor of the sun.
Curs’d be the tongue that hurled the sland’rous shaft!

205

Withered the lips that spake the sland’rous tale!
For then his mind was strong, and in its strength
He gloried, as a giant o’er the thew
And sinew of his limbs.  The sland’rer spake,
And, lo! the stately man became a child!

210

His mind, once full of bright imaginings,
Became as gloomy as the murkiest eve
That ever mingled with November’s fog.
Thoughts that had ransacked heaven fell to earth,
Enfeebled with the fall.  The eye that look’d

215

Fearlessly on the virtuous of the world,
That gazed admiringly upon the stars,
And drank their wondrous beauty in deep draughts,
Till it was drunken with delight, now quailed,
And sought the ground.  And yet the tale was false.

220

But there was one who did believe it true;
One who had leaned upon his heart of hearts,
Like Innocence on Love.  She thought it true.
And he was left alone with his crush’d heart,
To crawl mind-wounded through a cheerless world,

225

Like a lost planet through infinity,
Tortured with its unrest.  He could have borne [Page 258]
The curses of the world, and borne them well;
He could have grasped his troubles by the heel,
And hurled them from him; but for that one thought,

230

That he was deemed unworthy of her love.
But there are sunbeams in the icicles,
Caloric in snow, and animalculæ
In the hard rock; and in one single germ
Lie all creation’s works in miniature;

235

So in his heart one pulse of hope still beat,
One solitary spark still burned beneath
The ashes of his grief—her woman’s love
Had merely flickered in the world’s foul breath.
And knowing this, his heart was up again,

240

Like a stout wrestler whom some sinewy arm
Had humbled to his knees.  The tale was false,
And he had proved it in the sland’rer’s teeth
To be an upas offshoot, that had sprung
From the fierce cravings of a jealous mind,

245

And well nigh poisoned all their mutual hopes.
As leaps the sun above the clouded morn,
So rose the Poet-spirit of my friend
Once more into the hopeful skies of day,
From out the night of his intense despair.

250

And there they live, content, in yonder vale;
Their dwelling is an altar reared to Faith;
’T is built upon the spot which witnessed first
The sweet reünion of their steadfast love.
    Again, seest thou yon distant roof-top peer

255

Above the cedars on the mountain side? [Page 259]
Thence soared a noble soul unto his rest,
While the strong throes of hope and future fame
Passed through his mind like summer o’er the earth.
To live, until the heart is warmed with youth,

260

And then, like to a suddenly blasted flower
In summer-time, to die and pass away—
Oh! ’t is a bitter and a solemn thought!
What glowing hopes lay folded in the breast,
Like honey in the fair, expanding bud!

265

What burning thoughts leap through the throbbing brain,
Like lightnings hidden in the noon-day cloud!
So passed my student-friend unto his rest,
In the warm summer of his manly youth.
His springtime had been rich in blossoming,

270

Giving great promise of his harvest days,
When, with a vigorous will, and mind matured,
The golded fruitage of his well-spent hours
Would have been gathered in.  Not his the fate
That buffets with the stern and iron world,

275

And winneth length of days; that wrests from fame
The guerdon that awaits the victor-mind;
That wrestles with great truths, till they become
The ministers of his Titanic will;
The buoyant wave that laves some fair, green isle,

280

And passing on, strands on a granite rock,
Flinging its wealth of pearl into the air,—
This, rather was his doom.  But he had won
The meed of praise that waits the studious soul,
Won the fond friendship of his fellow peers. [Page 260]

285

He was a Man, in all that constitutes
The truest Manhood, in its strictest sense—
A Man in the full stature of his mind.
Religion was a well-spring in his breast,
Whose waters were as pure as waves of light

290

Rolling in volumes from the gleaming stars.
His thoughts soared ever upward towards God,
As soars the purifying flame to heaven.
Philosophy, and heaven descended poesy,
Within the sunny chambers of his mind

295

Met, like fair handmaids, who had come to stay,
And by their presence keep his spirit pure,
And meet for the high calling unto which
He would have given all his earthly days.
But in the midst of Life, the spoiler, Death,

300

Like a stern tyrant on his heartless round,
Struck down the noble youth, and robbed his friends
And fellow Students of their store of hopes.
Far from his home he died.—No parent’s eye
Saw the last struggle of his manly breast;

305

No sister’s voice into his closing ears
Poured the sad music of a last farewell.
But there were loving hands to close his eyes;
And there were loving hearts around, to feel
The grief that enters at the door of death;

310

And there were loving lips to pour the balm
Of consolation on his chastened mind.
He died, as dies the summer’s crimson eve,
When the rich sunset hangs its banners out [Page 261]
Above its palaces of cloud and sky—

315

A death upon whose brow a radiant life
Sits crowned,—the white-winged messenger of hope,
Whose path is flashing with a sheen of gold.


BERTRAM.


I am ashamed to think you’ve caught me thus.
You’re an accomplished trapper.


LORENZO.


                                                       When I please.

320

But not a word upon the subject now;
The secret shall be kept.  We will return;
There is a merry-making at the village,
At which I must be present; and to-morrow,
You will commence your schooling, and become

325

My fellow-student.  Nature for our guide,
Depend upon it we will learn far more
Than any pair of beardling adepts did
In those cold, formal universities,
Where young men’s heads are crammed like Christmas turkeys,

330

Making them passive as a sweating group
Of listless Dutchmen o’er their meerschaum pipes
That deaden all their faculties of mind. [Page 262]