Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/462

424 Pours her petulant youth;

Climbing the rock which juts

O'er the valley,—the dizzily perched

Rock,—to its iron cross

Once more thou cling'st; to the cross

Clingest! with smiles, with a sigh!

Goethe too had been there.25

In the long-past winter he came

To the frozen Hartz, with his soul

Passionate, eager; his youth

All in ferment. But he,

Destined to work and to live,

Left it, and thou, alas!

Only to laugh and to die.

But something prompts me: Not thus

Take leave of Heine! not thus

Speak the last word at his grave!

Not in pity, and not

With half censure: with awe

Hail, as it passes from earth

Scattering lightnings, that soul!

The Spirit of the world,

Beholding the absurdity of men,—

Their vaunts, their feats,—let a sardonic smile,

For one short moment, wander o'er his lips.

That smile was Heine! For its earthly hour

The strange guest sparkled; now 'tis passed away.

That was Heine! and we,

Myriads who live, who have lived,

What are we all, but a mood,

A single mood, of the life