The Moral

What is the moral? Let us think awhile,Taking the editorial WE to help,It sounds respectable.

The moral; yes.We always read, when any fable ends,"Hence we may learn." A moral must be found.What do you think of this? "Hence we may learnThat dolphins swim about the coast of Wales,And Admiralty maps should now be drawnBy teacher-girls, because their sight is keen,And they can spy out islands." Will that do?No, that is far too plain,--too evident.

Perhaps a general moralizing vein--(We know we have a happy knack that way.We have observed, moreover, that young menAre fond of good advice, and so are girls;Especially of that meandering kind,Which winding on so sweetly, treats of allThey ought to be and do and think and wear,As one may say, from creeds to comforters.Indeed, we much prefer that sort ourselves,So soothing). Good, a moralizing vein;That is the thing; but how to manage it?"Hence we may learn," if we be so inclined,That life goes best with those who take it best;That wit can spin from work a golden robeTo queen it in; that who can paint at willA private picture gallery, should not cryFor shillings that will let him in to lookAt some by others painted. Furthermore,Hence we may learn, you poets,--(and we countFor poets all who ever felt that suchThey were, and all who secretly have knownThat such they could be; ay, moreover, allWho wind the robes of idealityAbout the bareness of their lives, and hangComforting curtains, knit of fancy's yarn,Nightly betwixt them and the frosty world),--Hence we may learn, you poets, that of allWe should be most content. The earth is givenTo us: we reign by virtue of a senseWhich lets us hear the rhythm of that old verse,The ring of that old tune whereto she spins.Humanity is given to us: we reignBy virtue of a sense, which lets us inTo know its troubles ere they have been told,And take them home and lull them into restWith mournfullest music. Time is given to us,--Time past, time future. Who, good sooth, besideHave seen it well, have walked this empty worldWhen she went steaming, and from pulpy hillsHave marked the spurting of their flamy crowns?

Have we not seen the tabernacle pitched,And peered between the linen curtains, blue,Purple, and scarlet, at the dimness there,And, frighted, have not dared to look again?But, quaint antiquity! beheld, we thought,A chest that might have held the manna potAnd Aaron's rod that budded. Ay, we leanedOver the edge of Britain, while the fleetOf Caesar loomed and neared; then, afterwards,We saw fair Venice looking at herselfIn the glass below her, while her Doge went forthIn all his bravery to the wedding.

This,However, counts for nothing to the graceWe wot of in time future:--therefore add,And afterwards have done: "Hence we may learn,"That though it be a grand and comely thingTo be unhappy,--(and we think it is,Because so many grand and clever folkHave found out reasons for unhappiness,And talked about uncomfortable things,--Low motives, bores, and shams, and hollowness,The hollowness o' the world, till we at lastHave scarcely dared to jump or stamp, for fear,Being so hollow, it should break some day,And let us in),--yet, since we are not grand,O, not at all, and as for cleverness,That may be or may not be,--it is wellFor us to be as happy as we can!

Agreed: and with a word to the noble sex,As thus: we pray you carry not your gunsOn the full-cock; we pray you set your prideIn its proper place, and never be ashamedOf any honest calling,--let us add,And end; for all the rest, hold up your headsAnd mind your English.

The woman is Imagination; she is brooding over what she brought forth.

The two purple peaks represent the domains of Poetry and of History.