True Love's The Gift Which

See Yonder Rock From Which The Fountain Gushes; Is It Less Compact Of Adamant, Though Waters Flow From It? Firm Hearts Have Moister Eyes.

Alas!... What Is It, Valiant Knight, Save An Offering Of Sacrifice To A Demon Of Vain Glory, And A Passing Through The Fire Of Moloch? What Remains To You As A Prize Of All The Blood You Have Spilled, Of All The Travail And Pain You Have Endured, Of All The Tears Which Your Deeds Have Caused, When Death Hath Broken The Strong Man's Spear, And Overtaken The Speed Of His War-horse?

Independently Of The Curious Circumstance That Such Tales Should Be Found Existing In Very Different Countries And Languages, Which Augurs A Greater Poverty Of Human Invention Than We Would Have Expected, There Is Also A Sort Of Wild Fairy Interest In Them, Which Makes Me Think Them Fully Better Adapted To Awaken The Imagination And Soften The Heart Of Childhood Than The Good-boy Stories Which Have Been In Later Years Composed For Them.

In Prosperous Times I Have Sometimes Felt My Fancy And Powers Of Language Flag, But Adversity Is To Me At Least A Tonic And Bracer.

It Was Woman That Taught Me Cruelty, And On Woman Therefore I Have Exercised It.