XI
Nay, do not push. Ah! Vengeance on you all!
’Tis lost. What greediness!—a vulgar crowd
Pressing and trampling forward—I shall fall.
Help! hear me! Here is hard cash: I’m not proud.
In vain. All lost. Before my eyes a cloud
Hides the great show, the scene becomes obscure.
I could have wished that chance had been allowed;
But no, the risk of limb outweighed the lure,—
And, taking all in all, the show’s a little poor.
XII
Adieu. See how they fight! So has it been
Since the beginning, as if unaware
The panorama’s but a shifting scene,
And all its wonders only empty air.
Hear me, my friends. Believe me that I bear
No grudge against you, but would have you know,
For your own good, the lust of gold’s a snare.
The world’s no shop, but only a peepshow:
What’s seen or handled you surrender when you go.
XIII
Carry him out! more room! come up behind!
One peephole vacant! now the show’s at height.
Strange, that our predecessors—though not blind—
Ne’er fully saw or understood the sight,
Withal so anxious to display their light
For our illumination! But away:
Our time for all such questioning is quite
Too limited. Enough, while yet ’tis day,
To use the precious hours. Let night come when it may.
THE FELLOWSHIP OF HUMANITY
As one who, late at eve returning home
Under the stars, hears on the common road
A fellow-footstep fall, and sees one come
Dimly, he knows not whom, nor can forebode;