Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/143

 "He heeded not reviling tones, Nor sold his heart to idle moans, Tho' cursed and scorn'd, and bruised with stones:

"But looking upward, full of grace, He pray'd, and from a happy place God's glory smote him on the face."

The sullen answer slid betwixt: "Not that the grounds of hope were fix'd, The elements were kindlier mix'd."

I said, "I toil beneath the curse, But, knowing not the universe, I fear to slide from bad to worse.

"And that, in seeking to undo One riddle, and to find the true I knit a hundred others new: