" all the hearers exclaimed. Five minutes more, andthe stage was empty, the company had vanished, and not a sound morewas heard- all were gone. But the ruins stood unchanged, as theywill stand when centuries shall have gone by, and when none shall knowof the momentary applause and of the triumph of the fair songstress;when all will be forgotten and gone, and even for me this hour will bebut a dream of the past."
TWELFTH EVENING
"I looked through the windows of an editor"s house," said theMoon. "It was somewhere in Germany. I saw handsome furniture, manybooks, and a chaos of newspapers. Several young men were present:the editor himself stood at his desk, and two little books, both byyoung authors, were to be noticed. "This one has been sent to me,"said he. "I have not read it yet; what think you of the contents?""Oh," said the person addressed- he was a poet himself- "it is goodenough; a little broad, certainly; but, you see, the author is stillyoung. The verses might be better, to be sure; the thoughts are sound,though there is certainly a good deal of common-place among them.But what will you have? You can"t be always getting something new.That he"ll turn out anything great I don"t believe, but you may safelypraise him. He is well read, a remarkable Oriental scholar, and hasa good judgment. It was he who wrote that nice review of my"Reflections on Domestic Life." We must be lenient towards the youngman."
""But he is a complete hack!" objected another of the gentlemen."Nothing worse in poetry than mediocrity, and he certainly does not gobeyond this."
""Poor fellow," observed a third, "and his aunt is so happyabout him. It was she, Mr. Editor, who got together so manysubscribers for your last translation."
""Ah, the good woman! Well, I have noticed the book briefly.Undoubted talent- a welcome offering- a flower in the garden ofpoetry- prettily brought out- and so on. But this other book- Isuppose the author expects me to purchase it? I hear it is praised. Hehas genius, certainly: don"t you think so?"
""Yes, all the world declares as much," replied the poet, "butit has turned out rather wildly. The punctuation of the book, inparticular, is very eccentric."
""It will be good for him if we pull him to pieces, and angerhim a little, otherwise he will get too good an opinion of himself."
""But that would be unfair," objected the fourth. "Let us not carpat little faults, but rejoice over the real and abundant good thatwe find here: he surpasses all the rest."
""Not so. If he is a true genius, he can bear the sharp voice ofcensure. There are people enough to praise him. Don"t let us quiteturn his head."
""Decided talent," wrote the editor, "with the usual carelessness.that he can write incorrect verses may be seen in page 25, where thereare two false quantities. We recommend him to study the ancients,etc."
"I went away," continued the Moon, "and looked through the windowsin the aunt"s house. There sat the be-praised poet, the tame one;all the guests paid homage to him, and he was happy.
"I sought the other poet out, the wild one; him also I found ina great assembly at his patron"s, where the tame poet"s book was beingdiscussed.
""I shall read yours also," said Maecenas; "but to speak honestly-you know I never hide my opinion from you- I don"t expect much fromit, for you are much too wild, too fantastic. But it must be allowedthat, as a man, you are highly respectable."
"A young girl sat in a corner; and she read in a book these words:
""In the dust lies genius and glory,
But ev"ry-day talent will pay.
It"s only the old, old story,
But the piece is repeated each day.""
THIRTEENTH EVENING
The Moon said, "Beside the woodland path there are two smallfarm-houses. The doors are low, and some of the windows are placedquite high, and others close to the ground; and whitethorn andbarberry bushes grow around them. The roof of each house isovergrown with moss and with yellow flowers and houseleek. Cabbage andpotatoes are the only plants cultivated in the gardens, but out of thehedge there grows a willow tree, and under this willow tree sat alittle girl, and she sat with her eyes fixed upon the old oak treebetween the two huts.
"It was an old withered stem. It had been sawn off at the top, anda stork had built his nest upon it; and he stood in this nest clappingwith his beak. A little boy came and stood by the girl"s side: theywere brother and sister.
""What are you looking at?
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