_Par._ Ay, sounds it not like some old well-known tale? For me, I estimate their works and them So rightly, that at times I almost dream I too have spent a life the sages' way, And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance I perished in an arrogant self-reliance Ages ago; and in that act, a prayer For one more chance went up so earnest, so Instinct with better light let in by death, That life was blotted out--not so completely But scattered wrecks enough of it remain, Dim memories, as now, when once more seems The goal in sight again. All which, indeed, Is foolish, and only means--the flesh I wear, The earth I tread, are not more clear to me Than my belief, explained to you or no. _Fest._ And who am I, to challenge and dispute That clear belief? I will divest all fear. _Mich._ Then Aureole is God's commissary! he shall Be great and grand--and all for us! _Par._ No, sweet! Not great and grand. If I can serve mankind 'T is well; but there our intercourse must end: I never will be served by those I serve. _Fest._ Look well to this; here is a plague-spot, here, Disguise it how you may! 'T is true, you utter This scorn while by our side and loving us; 'T is but a spot as yet: but it will break Into a hideous blotch if overlooked. How can that course be safe which from the first Produces carelessness to human love? It seems you have abjured the helps which men Who overpass their kind, as you would do, Have humbly sought; I dare not thoroughly probe This matter, lest I learn too much. Let be That popular praise would little instigate Your efforts, nor particular approval Reward you; put reward aside; alone You shall go forth upon your arduous task, None shall assist you, none partake your toil, None share your triumph: still you must retain Some one to cast your glory on, to share Your rapture with. Were I elect like you, I would encircle me with love, and raise A rampart of my fellows; it should seem Impossible for me to fail, so watched By gentle friends who made my cause their own. They should ward off fate's envy--the great gift, Extravagant when claimed by me alone, Being so a gift to them as well as me. If danger daunted me or ease seduced, How calmly their sad eyes should gaze reproach! _Mich._ O Aureole, can I sing when all alone, Without first calling, in my fancy, both To listen by my side--even I! And you? Do you not feel this? Say that you feel this!