Page:Ferrier's Works Volume 3 "Philosophical Remains" (1883 ed.).djvu/582

572 . To-day

Is fixed for the decision of the prizes.

To-day?

Yes! were you not aware of that?

. How should I know it?

(sighing) Ay! too true—too true—

You are no painter.

Wherefore do you sigh?

Oh, Laura—Laura! does the painter's art

Engross so large a share of your esteem,

That but a secondary love is left

For a poor surgeon?

What you are to me,

Bernardo—you know well. Yet I confess

If you were but a painter, all my wishes

Would be fulflll'd. I have a love for painters­

A love inhaled with the first air I breathed —

My father was devoted to the art

With all the zeal of an enthusiast.

He had himself some skill—and our whole house

Was filled with paintings by the greatest masters.

Thus, in an atmosphere of grace and beauty

My infancy was spent—my playmates, pictures.

After my father's death my guardian took me;

And he, too, is possess'd by the same passion.

Mew'd up, secluded by his jealous care,

From all society of men, I still

Had friends about me, and these friends were still

The bright creations of the painter's hand.