Thus it ever was and ever will be, Such of old is the world wide: The learned are many, the sages few, Acquaintance many, but not a friend! [FAME.] III. 102. Blessed who to himself has kept His creation highest of the soul, And from his fellows as from the graves Expected not appreciation! Blessed he who in silence sang And the crown of fame not wearing, By mob despised and forgotten, Forsaken nameless has the world! Deceiver greater than dreams of hope, What is fame? The adorer's whisper? Or the boor's persecution? Or the rapture of the fool? 1824. THE ANGEL. IV. 108. At the gates of Eden a tender angel With drooping head was shining; A demon gloomy and rebellious Over hell's abyss was flying. The Spirit of Denial, the Spirit of Doubt The Spirit of Purity espied; And a tender warmth unwittingly Now first to know it learned he. Adieu, he spake, thee I saw: Not in vain hast thou shone before me; Not all in the world have I hated, Not all in the world have I scorned. 1827. [HOME-SICKNESS.] III. 131. Mayhap not long am destined I In exile peaceful to remain, Of dear days of yore to sigh, And rustic muse in quiet With spirit calm to follow. But even far, in foreign land, In thought forever roam I shall Around Trimountain mine: By meadows, river, by its hills, By garden, linden nigh the house. Thus when darkens day the clear, Alone from depths of grave, Spirit home-longing Into the native hall flies To espy the loved ones with tender glance. 1825. [INSANITY.] III. 149. God grant I grow not insane: No, better the stick and beggar's bag: No, better toil and hunger bear. Not that I upon my reason Such value place; not that I Would fain not lose it. If freedom to me they would leave How I would lasciviously For the gloomy forest rush! In hot delirium I would sing And unconscious would remain With ravings wondrous and chaotic. And listen would I to the waves And gaze I would full of bliss Into the empty heavens. And free and strong then would I be Like a storm the fields updigging, Forest-trees uprooting. But here's the trouble: if crazy once, A fright thou art like pestilence, And locked up now shalt thou be. To a chain thee, fool, they 'll fasten And through the gate, a circus beast, Thee to nettle the people come. And at night not hear shall I Clear the voice of nightingale Nor the forest's hollow sound, But cries alone of companions mine And the scolding guards of night And a whizzing, of chains a ringing. [DEATH-THOUGHTS.] IV. 93.