"The mother when she meets on high
The Babe she lost in infancy,
Hath she not then, for pains and fears,
The day of woe, the watchful night,
For all her sorrow, all her tears,
An over-payment of delight?" [21]
As life wears on the love of husband or wife, of friends and of children,
becomes the great solace and delight of age. The one recalls the past, the
other gives interest to the future; and in our children, it has been truly
said, we live our lives again.
[1] _Filicaja_. Translated by Leigh Hunt.
[2] Not from passion itself.
[3] Pope.
[4] Wordsworth.
[5] Browne.
[6] Malory, _Morte d' Arthur_.
[7] I avail myself of Dr. Jowett's translation.
[8] Burns.
[9] Malory, _Morte d' Arthur_.
[10] Symonds.
[11] Scott.
[12] Scott.
[13] Trench.
[14] Lovelace.
[15] Moore.
[16] Tennyson.
[17] Wordsworth.
[18] Bondi. Tr. by Glassfors.
[19] Tennyson.
[20] Swinburne.
[21] Southey.
CHAPTER V.
ART.
"High art consists neither in altering, nor in improving nature; but
in seeking throughout nature for 'whatsoever things are lovely,
whatsoever things are pure;' in loving these, in displaying to the
utmost of the painter's power such loveliness as is in them, and
directing the thoughts of others to them by winning art, or gentle
emphasis.
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