XIII. My fancy of a merchant-prince Was different. Through his wares we groped Our darkling way to-not to mince The matter-no black den where moped XIV. Shop was shop only: household-stuff? XV. What might he deal in? Gems, suppose! You choice of jewels, everyone Good, better, best, star, moon and sun! XVI. Which lies within your power of purse? XVII. Howe'er your choice fell, straight you took XVIII. Then off made buyer with a prize, XIX. And whither went he? Ask himself, XX. Because a man has shop to mind In time and place, since flesh must live, Needs spirit lack all life behind, All stray thoughts, fancies fugitive, All loves except what trade can give ? XXI. I want to know a butcher paints, XXII. But shop each day and all day long! Friend, your good angel slept, your star From where these sorts of treasures are, There should our hearts be-Christ, how far! There ought to be far more in a man than can be put into a front window. This man had all sorts of "curios" in his shop window, but there was nothing rich or rare in his soul; and so there was room for all of him in a den which would not have held the hundredth part of his wares. The contemptible manner of the man's life is strikingly brought out by the various suppositions (stanzas 5, 6, 7) so different from the poor reality (8-9). All he cared for was business, which made him "chuckle" on the one hand or 'chafe" on the other, according as times were good or bad (10). Even in his business it was not the real excellence of his wares he cared for, only their saleability (11). A merchant prince is a very different person (13-19). The last three stanzas give the lesson in a style partly humorous, but passing in the end to an impressive solemnity. In connection with this should be read the companion piece, "House," to which reference is made in the Introduction. THE BOY AND THE ANGEL. MORNING, evening, noon and night, "Praise God!" sang Theocrite. Then to his poor trade he turned, Whereby the daily meal was earned. Hard he laboured, long and well; But ever, at each period, He stopped and sang, "Praise God!" Then back again his curls he threw, Said Blaise, the listening monk, "Well done; "I doubt not thou art heard, my son : "As well as if thy voice to-day "Were praising God, the Pope's great way. "This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome "Praises God from Peter's dome." Said Theocrite, "Would God that I "Might praise Him, that great way, and die !" Night passed, day shone, And Theocrite was gone. With God a day endures alway, God said in heaven, "Nor day nor night "Now brings the voice of my delight." Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth, Entered, in flesh, the empty cell, And morning, evening, noon and night, And from a boy, to youth he grew : The man put off the stripling's hue: The man matured and fell away And ever o'er the trade he bent, And ever lived on earth content. (He did God's will; to him, all one If on the earth or in the sun.) God said, "A praise is in mine ear; "There is no doubt in it, no fear : "So sing old worlds, and so "New worlds that from my footstool go. |