But I, whom even thyself didst stoop to teach,
May poise the scales, weigh this with that confliction.
Yea, sift the hid grain motive from the dense,
Dusty, eye-blinding chaff of consequence.
ix.
Ambition first! I find no fleck thereof
In all thy clean soul. What! could glory, gold.
Or sated senses lure thy lofty love ?
No purple doak to shield thee from the cold.
No jeweled sign to flicker thereabove,
And dazzle men to homage—joys untold
Of spiritual treasure, grace divine,
Alone (so saidst thou) coveting for thine!
x.
I saw thee mount with deprecating air.
Step after step, unto our Jewish throne
Of supreme dignity, the Babbi's chair;
Shrinking from public honors thrust upon
Thy meek desert, regretting even there
The placid habit of thy life foregone;
Silence obscure, vast peace and austere days
Passed in wise contemplation, prayer, and praise.
xi.
One less than thou had ne'er known such regret.
How must thou suffer, who so lov'st the shade,
