284 THE NIGHTINGALE. 
art itself, the love of the beautiful, confusedly seen in glimpses, and 
very keenly felt, are a second aliment, which sustains his soul, and 
supplies it with a new inspiration, And this is boundless —a day 
opened on the infinite. 
The true greatness of the artist consists in overshooting his mark, 
in doing more than he willed; and, moreover, in passing far beyond 
the goal, in crossing the limits of the possible, and looking beyond — 
beyond. 
Hence arise great sorrows, an inexhaustible source of melancholy ; 
hence the sublime folly of weeping over misfortunes which he has 
never experienced. Other birds are astonished, and occasionally 
inquire of him what is the cause of his grief, what does he regret. 
When free and joyous in his forest-home, he does not the less vouch- 
safe for his reply the strain which my captive chanted in his 
silence : 
“ Lascia che io pianga !” 
Suffer me, suffer me to weep! 
