The maid of Redenfayn, an allegory of two worlds, in three books: I The book of loves and dreams . elf is mystery, and Heaven and Hell,And life and death, and all the why strive I to loose this gordian knotThat binds to circumstance this mortal clay?On the eternal charts of destinyAll marked my footsteps arc unchangeable,—Charts wrought of adamant by Gods own handOn that great first day of eternity,When all the stars were in their places every act of man was foreordained,—Unchangeable for all puppets are we all; the iron wiresHer hands do hold, and as she s
The maid of Redenfayn, an allegory of two worlds, in three books: I The book of loves and dreams . elf is mystery, and Heaven and Hell,And life and death, and all the why strive I to loose this gordian knotThat binds to circumstance this mortal clay?On the eternal charts of destinyAll marked my footsteps arc unchangeable,—Charts wrought of adamant by Gods own handOn that great first day of eternity,When all the stars were in their places every act of man was foreordained,—Unchangeable for all puppets are we all; the iron wiresHer hands do hold, and as she strikes we , then, thou pregnant future, let me seeThe offspring of thy womb, fathered by fate;For fate is all in all, and everywhere. A strange charm leads me on: bright is its look;And be it Israels light or false mirage,Bravely unto the end Ill follow it,—Lead it to glory or to infamy; Ill risk—• Crash! in the sea from neighboring cliffDown fell a towering rock; far oer the wavesThe echoes rolled, mixed in with sea-birds shrieks,And growls and barkings of sea-lions The Book of Ambition and Grief P^/WJ^ 173 That boat! Fame at its prow; Death at its helm — Perchance, therein embarked some hopeful youth; Ambition his bright pilot: storms came on — The same, perhaps, that cast me on this isle — He skill, or courage, or equipment lacked; Fate was his enen\v, fame not his friend; And lo, his boat cast here upon the strand, His body in the maws of fiendlike sharks. Or else the food of ravens on the shore. The Youth sat on a rock, and thus did muse: Ah, well-a-day! how like a dream it comes! Beneath a tree I read of Roman kings, Then pictured all the world one monarchy — Myself upon its throne, and all earths gold. And all her virgins fair, at my command. The story of the Sibyl strange I read, And of the books she sold to Tarquiu Proud. Tis true; Ambition is the Sibyl maid. Not very fair but strong to fascinate. Nine books she brings, a monstrous p
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