II.

    Thus spake an aged¹ man to one Who manhood's race had just begun. His form of manhood's noblest length Was strung with manhood's stoutest² strength, And burned within his eagle eye The blaze of tameless energy-

    Not tameless but untamed——for life Soon breaks the spirit with its strife³ And they who in their souls have nursed The brightest visions, are the first To learn how Disappointment's blight⁴ Strips life of its illusive⁵ light； How dreams the heart has dearest held Are ever first to be dispelled⁶； How hope, and power, and love, and fame, Are each an idly sounding name, A phantom⁷, a deceit, a wile⁸, That woos and dazzles to beguile⁹. But time had not yet tutored him, The youth of hardy¹⁰ heart and limb, Who quickly drew his courser's bit； For though too haughty¹¹ to submit, In strife for mastery with men, Yet to a prayer, or a caress¹², His soul became all gentleness,—— An infant's hand might lead him then： So answered he,——"In sooth the way My steed and I have passed to-day, Is of such weary, winding¹³ length, As sorely to have tried our strength, And I will bless the bread and salt Of him who kindly¹⁴ bids me halt." Then springing lightly to the ground, His girth and saddle he unbound, And turning from the path aside, The steed and guest, the host and guide, Sought where the old man's friendly door Stood ever open to the poor：

    The poor——for seldom came the great, Or rich, the apers of their state, That simple, rude abode¹⁵ to see, Or claim its hospitality.