the cenci's dream.
83
The angels may know, who can bear it—but never thou, darling!
"Little sister beloved,—through what paths the Infinite leads us,
That we miss not the beautiful end, which, below our horizon,
Smiles upward to Him, who could guess? his ministers know we,
Nor by presence, nor sign, nor like favor. To one sends he a mother,
With patience and motherly urgings, to mould the young spirit
To faultless proportions, to strength and high-hearted endurance;—
With like end to another, it may be, a father like ours.
Thou hast 'suffered!' O fearful to think, since in hatred, he struck us,
From life and thy side, what tortures and fear may have rent thee!
That we miss not the beautiful end, which, below our horizon,
Smiles upward to Him, who could guess? his ministers know we,
Nor by presence, nor sign, nor like favor. To one sends he a mother,
With patience and motherly urgings, to mould the young spirit
To faultless proportions, to strength and high-hearted endurance;—
With like end to another, it may be, a father like ours.
Thou hast 'suffered!' O fearful to think, since in hatred, he struck us,
From life and thy side, what tortures and fear may have rent thee!
