BOOK THE NINTH.
325
A goodly gift to those who, fortune-blest, 215
Bask in the sunshine of Prosperity,
And such do well to keep it. But to him,
Sick at the heart with misery, and sore
With many a hard unmerited affliction,
It is a hair that chains to wretchedness 220
The slave who dares not burst it!
"Thinkest thou,
The parent, if his child should unrecall'd
Return and fall upon his neck, and cry,[1]
Oh! the wide world is comfortless, and full
Of vacant joys or heart-consuming cares! 225
I can be only happy in my home
With thee—my friend!—my father!" Think'st thou, Maid
That he would thrust him as an outcast forth?
Oh! he would clasp the truant to his heart,
And love the trespass."
Whilst he spake, his eye 230
Dwelt on the Maiden's cheek, and read her soul
Bask in the sunshine of Prosperity,
And such do well to keep it. But to him,
Sick at the heart with misery, and sore
With many a hard unmerited affliction,
It is a hair that chains to wretchedness 220
The slave who dares not burst it!
"Thinkest thou,
The parent, if his child should unrecall'd
Return and fall upon his neck, and cry,[1]
Oh! the wide world is comfortless, and full
Of vacant joys or heart-consuming cares! 225
I can be only happy in my home
With thee—my friend!—my father!" Think'st thou, Maid
That he would thrust him as an outcast forth?
Oh! he would clasp the truant to his heart,
And love the trespass."
Whilst he spake, his eye 230
Dwelt on the Maiden's cheek, and read her soul
Struggling
- ↑ Line 223. This thought is taken from Goethe's Sorrows of Werter.
