XXXVII.
He imagines Urania, the heavenly Muse, to reprove him for venturing on sacred ground, and commenting on religious themes; as she would have him confine his steps to his own Parnassus, and there earn the laurel crown.
But his own tragic Muse, Melpomene, replies with the apology, that though unworthy to speak of holy mysteries, yet with his earthly song he had striven to soothe his own aching heart, and render a due tribute to human love; and inasmuch as the comfort he had drawn was “clasp’d in truth reveal’d,” had its foundation in the Gospel: he daringly
“loiter’d in the Master’s field,
And darken’d sanctities with song.”
Many readers of In Memoriam will have thanked its author for these trespasses upon the Holy Land, feeling indeed there was no profane intrusion.
Some will regret that he has changed the original line, “and dear as sacramental wine,” into “and dear to me as sacred wine:” the purpose, one supposes, was that the reader should see that he spoke only for himself—“to me”—the meaning is unchanged, but the sound is rather flat.
XXXVIII.
The sadness of his heart has fully returned, and the journey of life is dull and weary. The skies above and the prospect before him are no longer what they used to be, when Hallam was by. “The blowing season,” when plants are blossoming: the “herald melodies of spring,” when the birds proclaim that winter is past, give him no joy; but in his own songs he finds a “gleam of solace;” and if after death there be any consciousness retained of what has been left upon earth,
“Then are these songs I sing of thee
Not all ungrateful to thine ear.”