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But
history
affords
many
an
example
where
the
most
precious
spirit
,
at
any
particular
epoch
manifested
in
human
shape
,
has
gone
hence
untimely
,
without
space
allowed
him
,
so
far
as
mortal
judgment
could
discern
,
to
perform
his
mission
on
the
earth
.
The
prophet
dies
,
and
the
man
of
torpid
heart
and
sluggish
brain
lives
on
.
The
poet
leaves
his
song
half
sung
,
or
finishes
it
,
beyond
the
scope
of
mortal
ears
,
in
a
celestial
choir
.
The
painter
—
as
Allston
did
—
leaves
half
his
conception
on
the
canvas
to
sadden
us
with
its
imperfect
beauty
,
and
goes
to
picture
forth
the
whole
,
if
it
be
no
irreverence
to
say
so
,
in
the
hues
of
heaven
.
But
rather
such
incomplete
designs
of
this
life
will
be
perfected
nowhere
.
This
so
frequent
abortion
of
man
’
s
dearest
projects
must
be
taken
as
a
proof
that
the
deeds
of
earth
,
however
etherealized
by
piety
or
genius
,
are
without
value
,
except
as
exercises
and
manifestations
of
the
spirit
.
In
heaven
,
all
ordinary
thought
is
higher
and
more
melodious
than
Milton
’
s
song
.
Then
,
would
he
add
another
verse
to
any
strain
that
he
had
left
unfinished
here
?
But
to
return
to
Owen
Warland
.
It
was
his
fortune
,
good
or
ill
,
to
achieve
the
purpose
of
his
life
.
Pass
we
over
a
long
space
of
intense
thought
,
yearning
effort
,
minute
toil
,
and
wasting
anxiety
,
succeeded
by
an
instant
of
solitary
triumph
:
let
all
this
be
imagined
;
and
then
behold
the
artist
,
on
a
winter
evening
,
seeking
admittance
to
Robert
Danforth
’
s
fireside
circle
.
There
he
found
the
man
of
iron
,
with
his
massive
substance
thoroughly
warmed
and
attempered
by
domestic
influences
.
And
there
was
Annie
,
too
,
now
transformed
into
a
matron
,
with
much
of
her
husband
’
s
plain
and
sturdy
nature
,
but
imbued
,
as
Owen
Warland
still
believed
,
with
a
finer
grace
,
that
might
enable
her
to
be
the
interpreter
between
strength
and
beauty
.
It
happened
,
likewise
,
that
old
Peter
Hovenden
was
a
guest
this
evening
at
his
daughter
’
s
fireside
,
and
it
was
his
well
-
remembered
expression
of
keen
,
cold
criticism
that
first
encountered
the
artist
’
s
glance
.
"
My
old
friend
Owen
!
"
cried
Robert
Danforth
,
starting
up
,
and
compressing
the
artist
’
s
delicate
fingers
within
a
hand
that
was
accustomed
to
gripe
bars
of
iron
.
"
This
is
kind
and
neighborly
to
come
to
us
at
last
.
I
was
afraid
your
perpetual
motion
had
bewitched
you
out
of
the
remembrance
of
old
times
.
"
"
We
are
glad
to
see
you
,
"
said
Annie
,
while
a
blush
reddened
her
matronly
cheek
.
"
It
was
not
like
a
friend
to
stay
from
us
so
long
.
"
"
Well
,
Owen
,
"
inquired
the
old
watchmaker
,
as
his
first
greeting
,
"
how
comes
on
the
beautiful
?
Have
you
created
it
at
last
?
"
The
artist
did
not
immediately
reply
,
being
startled
by
the
apparition
of
a
young
child
of
strength
that
was
tumbling
about
on
the
carpet
,
—
a
little
personage
who
had
come
mysteriously
out
of
the
infinite
,
but
with
something
so
sturdy
and
real
in
his
composition
that
he
seemed
moulded
out
of
the
densest
substance
which
earth
could
supply
.
This
hopeful
infant
crawled
towards
the
new
-
comer
,
and
setting
himself
on
end
,
as
Robert
Danforth
expressed
the
posture
,
stared
at
Owen
with
a
look
of
such
sagacious
observation
that
the
mother
could
not
help
exchanging
a
proud
glance
with
her
husband
.
But
the
artist
was
disturbed
by
the
child
’
s
look
,
as
imagining
a
resemblance
between
it
and
Peter
Hovenden
’
s
habitual
expression
.
He
could
have
fancied
that
the
old
watchmaker
was
compressed
into
this
baby
shape
,
and
looking
out
of
those
baby
eyes
,
and
repeating
,
as
he
now
did
,
the
malicious
question
:
"
The
beautiful
,
Owen
!
How
comes
on
the
beautiful
?
Have
you
succeeded
in
creating
the
beautiful
?
"
"
I
have
succeeded
,
"
replied
the
artist
,
with
a
momentary
light
of
triumph
in
his
eyes
and
a
smile
of
sunshine
,
yet
steeped
in
such
depth
of
thought
that
it
was
almost
sadness
.
"
Yes
,
my
friends
,
it
is
the
truth
.
I
have
succeeded
.
"
"
Indeed
!
"
cried
Annie
,
a
look
of
maiden
mirthfulness
peeping
out
of
her
face
again
.
"
And
is
it
lawful
,
now
,
to
inquire
what
the
secret
is
?
"
