Those false opinions which the harsh rich use
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ut, like a steward in honest dealings tried, _40With those who toiled and wept, the poor and wise,His riches and his cares he did divide. Fearless he was, and scorning all disguise,What he dared do or think, though men might start,He spoke with mild yet unaverted eyes; _45 Liberal he was of soul, and frank of heart,And to his many friends—all loved him well—Whate’er he knew or felt he would impart, If words he found those inmost thoughts to tell;If not, he smiled or wept; and his weak foes _50He neither spurned nor hated—though with fell And mortal hate their thousand voices rose,They passed like aimless arrows from his ear—Nor did his heart or mind its portal close To those, or them, or any, whom life’s sphere _55May comprehend within its wide array.What sadness made that vernal spirit sere?— He knew not. Though his life, day after day,Was failing like an unreplenished stream,Though in his eyes a cloud and burthen lay, _60 Through which his soul, like Vesper’s serene beamPiercing the chasms of ever rising clouds,Shone, softly burning; though his lips did seem Like reeds which quiver in impetuous floods;And through his sleep, and o’er each waking hour, _65Thoughts after thoughts, unresting multitudes, Were driven within him by some secret power,Which bade them blaze, and live, and roll afar,Like lights and sounds, from haunted tower to tower O’er castled mountains borne, when tempest’s war _70Is levied by the night-contending winds,And the pale dalesmen watch with eager ear;— Though such were in his spirit, as the fiendsWhich wake and feed an everliving woe,—What was this grief, which ne’er in other minds _75 A mirror found,—he knew not—none could know;But on whoe’er might question him he turnedThe light of his frank eyes, as if to show He knew not of the grief within that burned,But asked forbearance with a mournful look; _80Or spoke in words from which none ever learned
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