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m sure that I am right! _Mother._ Mistrust your judgment, then, of the mere means To this wild enterprise. Say you are right-- 60 How should one in your state e'er bring to pass What would require a cool head, a cold heart, And a calm hand? You never will escape. _Luigi._ Escape? To even wish that would spoil all. The dying is best part of it. Too much 65 Have I enjoyed these fifteen years of mine, To leave myself excuse for longer life: Was not life pressed down, running o'er with joy, That I might finish with it ere my fellows Who, sparelier feasted, make a longer stay? 70 I was put at the board-head, helped to all At first; I rise up happy and content. God must be glad one loves his world so much. I can give news of earth to all the dead Who ask me:--last year's sunsets, and great stars 75 Which had a right to come first and see ebb The crimson wave that drifts the sun away-- Those crescent moons with notched and burning rims That strengthened into sharp fire, and there stood, Impatient of the azure--and that day 80 In March, a double rainbow stopped the storm-- May's warm, slow, yellow moonlit summer nights-- Gone are they, but I have them in my soul! _Mother._ (He will not go!) _Luigi._ You smile at me? 'Tis true-- Voluptuousness, grotesqueness, ghastliness, 85 Environ my devotedness as quaintly As round about some antique altar wreathe The rose festoons, goats' horns, and oxen's skulls. _Mother._ See now: you reach the city, you must cross His threshold--how? _Luigi._ Oh, that's if we conspired! 90 Then would come pains in plenty, as you guess-- But guess not how the qualities most fit For such an office, qualities I have, Would little stead me, otherwise employed, Yet prove of rarest merit only here. 95 Everyone knows for what his excellence Will serve, but no one ever will consider For what his worst defect might serve; and yet Have you not seen me range our coppice yonder In search of a distorted ash?--I find 100 The wry spoilt branch a natural perfect bow. Fancy the thrice-sage, thrice-precautioned man
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