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    Karl . 'Tis like ; but not the same ; long weary leagues From your sire ' s castle is that gothic hall , Edgar . I see a single tenant . Karl . Mark him well ! He ' of earth ' s best and mightiest ; his grey head Is hoared far more by toil than years ; his brow Hath fewer furrows than his heart hath virtues : Rarely , indeed , can that be said of man ! Edgar . He writes ! Karl . He writes , although disease is

    ernawinz-The very throne of his surpassing mind . His midnight hour is past , his lamp is dull , And sheds a faint and sickly ray around , As weary of its watch ; he slackens not , Though the dull ticking of the antique clock Each instant falls upon his ear in warning , And tells , in tones of dismal prophecy , Ere long the grave shall lap him in its foulness . Edgar . For fame ? Karl . His fame resoundeth through the world , E ' en to the bloody and the barbarous north . Edgar . To teach mankind ? Karl . No man can do it better ; But ample stores of precious wisdom he Already hath provided for the nations . He hath taught the human heart the way to peace By teaching it the way to charity ; And , calling- up alike the serf and lord .

    The dead of ages , to the living" world Hath shown how greatness , when deformed by vice , Must shrink from contrast with hut-sheltered virtue . Edgar . How they must love him ! How his name be prized , A spell to rule their wildest hearts to peace ! Karl . They love him ! Ay I e ' en as your lordly sire Doats on his hawks and horses—selfishly . They love his noble gifts , but leave the man To perish in his grey integrity , As there thou see ' st him , wasting by degrees . Deem you the wealthy thousands he has raised , As far as might be , from the native mud Of their dull souls would care an he should starve , Or see his best-beloved ones starve , and so Be stung to idiocy or raving madness ? Not they J indeed ! * * * * *

    . . You see the cavalcade That treads the umbrageous walks of yon grey abbey ? They have laid the mighty one you lately saw In the dank earth : his mortal toil is o ' er ; The giant frame was bowed , the giant mind Dwindled and flickered , till the final pang Extinguished for aye earth's brightest light .

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    The Choice . 747

• Citation
  • Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Nov. 2, 1833, page 747, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2626/page/15/