Brings such a painful feeling, as but now,
Poisoned the pure emotions she had felt
Toward the suffering stranger whom she had
Striven to render happy. Evermore
I will be coy and careful, never giving
To any but my parent the warm love
That does pervade my being; keeping all
Love's tender attributes and natural cares,
In one deep, ceaseless channel of affection;
Leaning alone for tenderness and counsel
Upon one natural trust—the only one
Nature has given me—a father's love.
Her. I have been very wrong to poison thus
Thy innocent trustfulness; for there is not
A more heart-troubling spirit haunting man,
Dwelling in gloom, and shadowing the soul
With a wing blacker than the wing of hate;
There is not in all man's grievous torments
A darker, gloomier, or more hideous form
Of human ill than sullen, black suspicion!
I would not teach thee distrust; 'tis the bane
Of all life's sweetness; I would but have said
Beware of seeming virtues; yet this much
Shall be retracted, since it pains thee so
To bear the imputation of a fault not meant,
And really not existing but in seeming.
If this man be not the veriest villain
That darkens earth with impotence of virtue,
He will but love thee for thy ignorance
Of the world's sinful wisdom. I do so;
Thou art to me far loftier than the best
Earth's royalty can boast; and thy pure soul
Hath radiance only borrowed from the skies.
Azlea. Wert thou not who thou art—a holy teacher—
I should suspect from what thyself hath said
