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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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Untitled Article
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 .
Untitled Article
The Choice . 747
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Citation
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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/
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