MAX. Peace I have never seen? Yes, I have seen it! Ev'n now I come from it: my journey led me Through lands as yet unvisited by war. O Father! life has charms, of which we know not: We have but seen the barren coasts of life; Like some wild roving crew of lawless pirates, Who, crowded in their narrow noisome ship, Upon the rude sea, with rude manners dwell; Naught of the fair land knowing but the bays, Where they may risk their hurried thievish landing. Of the loveliness that, in its peaceful dales, The land conceals—O Father!—O, of this, In our wild voyage we have seen no glimpse. OCT. [_gives increased attention_] And did this journey show thee much of it? MAX. 'Twas the first holiday of my existence. Tell me, where's the end of all this labour, This grinding labour that has stolen my youth, And left my heart uncheer'd and void, my spirit Uncultivated as a wilderness? This camp's unceasing din; the neighing steeds; The trumpet's clang; the never-changing round Of service, discipline, parade, give nothing To the heart, the heart that longs for nourishment. There is no soul in this insipid bus'ness; Life has another fate and other joys. OCT. Much hast thou learn'd, my Son, in this short journey! MAX. O blessed bright day, when at last the soldier Shall turn back to life, and be again a man! Through th' merry lines the colours are unfurl'd, And homeward beats the thrilling soft peace-march; All hats and helmets deck'd with leafy sprays, The last spoil of the fields! The city's gates Fly up; now needs not the petard to burst them: The walls are crowded with rejoicing people; Their shouts ring through the air: from every tower Blithe bells are pealing forth the merry vesper Of that bloody day. From town and hamlet Flow the jocund thousands; with their hearty Kind impetuosity our march impeding. The old man, weeping that he sees this day, Embraces his long-lost son: a stranger He revisits his old home; with spreading boughs The tree o'ershadows him at his return, Which waver'd as a twig when he departed; And modest blushing comes a maid to meet him, Whom on her nurse's breast he left. O happy, For whom some kindly door like this, for whom Soft arms to clasp him shall be open'd!— QUEST. [_with emotion_] O that The times you speak of should be so far distant! Should not be tomorrow, be today!