(Enter Philia, Astrid, and Luna.) It floweth forth in speech, and in these words Lies power to raise to realms celestial Man's common mode of thinking; and create A world of joy, where erstwhile brooded gloom. Aye, it can change the spirit's shallowness To depths of earnest feeling; and can cast Man's character in sure and noble mould. And I--yes, I am altogether filled By just this spirit-power, and must behold The pain and desolation that it brings To other hearts, when from mine own it pours. PHILIA: It seemed as though the voices of some choir (Enter Prof. Capesius and Dr. Strader.) Mingled together, uttering manifold Conceptions and opinions, each his own, Of these who formed our recent gathering. Full many harmonies there were indeed, But also many a harsh-toned dissonance. MARIA: Ah, when the words and speech of many men Present themselves in such wise to the soul, It seems as though man's very prototype Stood centred there in secret mystery: Become through many souls articulate, As in the rainbow's arch pure Light itself Grows visible in many-coloured rays. CAPESIUS: Through changing scenes of many centuries We wandered year on year in earnest search; Striving to fathom deep the living force That dwelt within the souls of those who sought To probe and scan the fundaments of being, And set before man's soul the goals of life. We thought that in the depths of our own souls We lived the higher powers of thought itself; And thus could solve the riddles set by Fate. We felt we had, or seemed at least to feel, Sure basis in the logic of our mind When new experiences crossed our path Questioning there the judgment of our soul. Yet now such basis wavers, when amazed I hear today, as I have heard before, The mode of thought taught by these people here. And more and more uncertain do I grow, When I perceive, how powerfully in life This mode of thought doth work. Full many a day Have I spent thus, thinking how I might shape Time's riddles as they solved themselves to me In words, that hearts might grasp and trembling feel. Happy indeed was I, if I could fill Only the smallest corner of some soul Amongst my audience with the warmth of life. And oftentimes it seemed success was mine, Nor would I make complaint of fruitless days. Yet all results of teaching thus could lead Only to recognition of this truth So loved and emphasized by men of deeds, That in the clash of life's realities, Thoughts are dim shadows, nothing more nor less: They may indeed wing life's creative powers To due fruition, but they cannot shape And mould our life themselves. So have I judged And with this modest comment was content: Where pale thoughts only work, all life is lamed And likewise all that joins itself to life.