_Mother._ But mistrust yourself-- Mistrust the judgment you pronounce on him! _Luigi._ Oh, there I feel--am sure that I am right! _Mother._ Mistrust your judgment, then, of the mere means To this wild enterprise. Say you are right-- 60 How should one in your state e'er bring to pass What would require a cool head, a cold heart, And a calm hand? You never will escape. _Luigi._ Escape? To even wish that would spoil all. The dying is best part of it. Too much 65 Have I enjoyed these fifteen years of mine, To leave myself excuse for longer life: Was not life pressed down, running o'er with joy, That I might finish with it ere my fellows Who, sparelier feasted, make a longer stay? 70 I was put at the board-head, helped to all At first; I rise up happy and content. God must be glad one loves his world so much. I can give news of earth to all the dead Who ask me:--last year's sunsets, and great stars 75 Which had a right to come first and see ebb The crimson wave that drifts the sun away-- Those crescent moons with notched and burning rims That strengthened into sharp fire, and there stood, Impatient of the azure--and that day 80 In March, a double rainbow stopped the storm-- May's warm, slow, yellow moonlit summer nights-- Gone are they, but I have them in my soul! _Mother._ (He will not go!) _Luigi._ You smile at me? 'Tis true-- Voluptuousness, grotesqueness, ghastliness, 85 Environ my devotedness as quaintly As round about some antique altar wreathe The rose festoons, goats' horns, and oxen's skulls. _Mother._ See now: you reach the city, you must cross His threshold--how?