The Little-Go. 637 



oracular domain ? For this have I not imbibed the spirit of eternal 

 beauty, and given form and substance to her being infused into her 

 ideal attributes the breath of a living soul, and shadowed out her 

 lineaments against the light of the vertical heavens that all might 

 look and return to look, and rejoice them in the contemplation that 



" A thing of beauty is a joy for ever ?" 



And, finally, is this the opening scene in the brief drama I am des- 

 tined to play upon this mortal stage ? To tremble and quake before 

 the frown of a burly swine in academical vestments, whose calling it 

 is to set springes for the unwary and the unweeting ? To approach 

 with awe and trembling the chariot wheels of these Juggernauts of 

 wisdom ? To be singled out by their unrelenting eye as the most 

 proper object to crush beneath the pulverising tire of their inflexible 

 dogmas ? 



" I see them before me now ! There sit the two ! The judges in 

 their own proper hell insolent in the conceit of power ! The sa- 

 vage exultation of their voice as they propound for immediate solu- 

 tion the problem that hath taken them hours to understand, the 

 tone, the triumphant malice of the query, still ring in my .ears ! 

 Look ! See you yon boy ? His face is wan with thought ; his strength 

 enfeebled with much study ; his mind hath been battling it out with 

 his body, and the fight hath been study against strength. You see 

 how sharp was the contest you may foresee how short will be the 

 victory ! He hath won it, truly. Mind has come off victor ; yet how 

 long, think you, will he live to enjoy it? Perhaps a little year. Hark! 

 the cough wears him already. The narrow contracted chest gasps 

 continually for relief. His eye is sunken dim so dim he can 

 scarce decypher the print. Midnight robbed him of his sight. He 

 watched whilst others slept. Think ye the fear of this one as he be- 

 trays its operation upon his fragile frame proceedeth from conscious 

 insufficiency ? No ; his spirit is strong 'tis his flesh is weak. Why 

 do not the questioners becalm his perturbation? Why do they not 

 sympathize with his situation ? Why do they not pity his infirmities 

 rather than despise the poor victim ? Why ? for that they are not 

 philosophers, but fools ; for that they are not good, but evil ; for that 

 they have power, and are tyrants ; for that they are devils, and will 

 torment; and, to-morrow! to-morrow his fate may be mine! The 

 same hell, and the same demons to preside in it their victim the only 

 thing changed ! And shall my chance be a better one ? It shall ! It 

 shall! Away then with this fever, this burning fiery fear this awful 

 dread of disgrace ! I will steel my nerves and yet shall the foul 

 breath of dishonour blow upon me as the idle wind, which I regard 

 not ? Shall it scathe me, scorch me, and I not show the brand ? I, 

 whose brow was wont to be an open book wherein all might read ? 

 Never ! By the living God never !" 



And as he said this he hurried out into the still, lonely, deserted 

 cloister ; there, pacing with unequal step, he went muttering to the 

 vacant moon as she peered up from behind the half silvered, half sha- 

 dowed belfry tower. 



