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28 A very wicked world, we know it not— We hold no converse with its denizens; But on the lands o'er which our island hangs, We shed fair gifts of plenty and of peace— Health and contentment—charity—goodwill; Drop tears of love upon the thirsty earth, And shower fair waters on the growing grain. This is our mission.
 * Eth. 'Tis a goodly one!

I'd give my sword—ay, and my sword-arm too, If thou wouldst anchor for a year or so O'er yonder home of mine. But tell me, now, Does every cloud that hovers o'er our heads Bear in its bosom such a wealth of love?
 * Sel. Alas! Sir Ethais, we are too few

To work the good that we could wish to work. Thou hast seen black and angry thunder-clouds That spit their evil fire at flocks and herds. And shake with burly laughter as they watch The trembling shepherds count their shriveled dead? These are our enemies, sir knight, and thine. They sow the seeds of pestilence and death— May heaven preserve thee from their influence!
 * Eth. Amen to that!
 * Phy.But tell us, gentle maid,

Why have you summoned us?
 * Sel. Because we seek

To teach you truths that now ye wot not of; Because we know that you are very frail, Poor, blind, weak, wayward mortals — willing reeds,