By seeing all the special-own no rule But when you see a king, you see the work They talk of vermin; but, sirs, vermin large Next to a missing thrust, what irks me most Pooh, thou 'rt a poet, crazed with finding words 'Tis a moon out of work, a barren egg, Or twenty things that no man sees but thee. END OF THE SPANISH GYPSY.' Lorenzo. THE LEGEND OF JUBAL. JUBAL, Lamech's son, That mortal frame wherein was first begun The immortal life of song. To the far woods he wandered, listening, And heard the birds their little stories sing It was at evening, When shadows lengthen from each westward thing, Earth and her children were at festival, Glowing as with one heart and one consent― blent. The sun had sunk, but music still was there, And when this ceased, still triumph filled the air : It seemed the stars were shining with delight And that no night was ever like this night. All clung with praise to Jubal: some besought That he would teach them his new skill; some caught, And thus did Jubal to his race reveal Music their larger soul, where woe and weal Now many a lyre was fashioned, many a song -0 That true heaven, the recovered past, The dear small Known amid the Unknown vast. -0 The future, that bright land which swims In western glory, isles and streams and bays, Where hidden pleasures float in golden haze. Man's life was spacious in the early world : It paused, like some slow ship with sail unfurled Waiting in seas by scarce a wavelet curled ; And grew from strength to strength through centuries; Saw infant trees fill out their giant limbs, And heard a thousand times the sweet birds' marriage Usurping sense, make old things shrink and fade The soul without still helps the soul within, Strong passion's daring sees not aught to dare. And a new spirit from that hour (the hour when The race of Cain: soft idlesse was no more, Who folding to her breast a dying child Beams with feigned joy that but makes sadness mild. |