There is no doubt what quality that is; scorn, indignation, separateness, bitterness, hostility. It is a personal imitation of loftiness, the compassionate element has quite vanished from it; there is all the difference in the world between it and the fierce pity of—
these slaves of men should beat
Bosoms too lean to suckle sons,
And fruitless as their orisons:
or the sudden stern mercy implied in—
la Montagna
Che drizza voi che il mondo fece torti:
or the serene, august luminance of compassion shining through—
His form had not yet lost