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Article THE ROSICRUCIAN. ← Page 2 of 5 →
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The Rosicrucian.
" Not that—not that , gracious lady ! " exclaimed the artist , for the first time breaking silence , " not in this presence should my thoughts be spoken . Here all are life , instinct with beauty and enjoyment , my words would cast a gloom upon the heart—dim the brightness of the brightest eye , and make the music pall upon the ear . I intreat some other punishment . "
" It is spoken , " interrupted Cosmo , whose curiosity was roused by the young man ' s earnestness , and the mystery of his words , — " the Duchess hath spoken wisely , —like a true Italian , hath avenged her sex , and I confirm the sentence . Speak , what were thy thoughts ?" " Of death , " replied the young man , " the thought which haunts me even sleeping or waking : it is constant with me , —I tremble at the universal doom , and while in life foretaste its bitterness . I see corruption in the smile of beauty ; if for a moment I gaze entranced upon bright
speaking eyes , the thought the worm must make Us mansion there , turns all their light to darkness . All that is fair in nature remind me I must die;—if I pluck a flower to gratify my senses with its perfume , it fades so quickly that I cast it from me , and shuddering , think on death . " " Art , " he continued , pointing to the statues and pictures near him , " is alone immortal . Ages shall gaze upon the sculptor ' s triumph , and the glowing canvass—but the genius which created them is subject to the
grave . " A shudder passed through the frame of the Duke as he listened to the speaker , and the ladies turned from him with blanched cheeks and quivering lips . " Can man impart to senseless marble , or the unconscious canvass , a principle he does not in himself possess ? " demanded an old man who stood near the Duchess , and whose dress bespoke him of another land ; ic hath the philosophy of Florence taught thee no wiser lesson—life
without hope is indeed a daily death . " Peace , father P exclaimed Cosmo , angry at the unpleasant reflections thus obtruded upon him in his hours of pleasure , —" reason which tells us to enjoy the present , hath taught him only to fear the future . Andrea ! " he continued , "for one month I can dispense with you at court , when it expires , return an altered man , or return no more . " The artist bowed and quitted the palace , a thousand unquieted emotions in his hearthe directed his steps towards the Arnocrossed the Ponte
, , Vecchio , whereof old Cellini tried his apprentice hand , and pursued the path along its point , till he reached the hill of St . Minianati , at the foot of which he threw himself down to reflect in moody silence , " Why , " he at last exclaimed , " should itbe my doom , of all mankind , to feel this ceaseless misery ?—why does death haunt me like a second self ? My companions are happy and cheerful , yet they , like me , regret the superstitious inventions of priestly imagination . " Better , " he continued , " to end this
wretched state at once , better to meet the evil than pass my life in terror of it . " He gazed wistfully upon the Arno as he spoke . ' Itis deep enough , " uttered a voice beside him . Andrea started , the stranger who had addressed him at the palace was with him . " Deep enough , " repeated the artist with a faltering accent , for despite his boasted scepticism , he felt awed— " for what ? " " For an atheist ' s grave ! " answered the old man . " Thou art a singular being , and indeed hast read my feelings rightly : the superstition of the world I have long since rejected , yet wisdom hath
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Rosicrucian.
" Not that—not that , gracious lady ! " exclaimed the artist , for the first time breaking silence , " not in this presence should my thoughts be spoken . Here all are life , instinct with beauty and enjoyment , my words would cast a gloom upon the heart—dim the brightness of the brightest eye , and make the music pall upon the ear . I intreat some other punishment . "
" It is spoken , " interrupted Cosmo , whose curiosity was roused by the young man ' s earnestness , and the mystery of his words , — " the Duchess hath spoken wisely , —like a true Italian , hath avenged her sex , and I confirm the sentence . Speak , what were thy thoughts ?" " Of death , " replied the young man , " the thought which haunts me even sleeping or waking : it is constant with me , —I tremble at the universal doom , and while in life foretaste its bitterness . I see corruption in the smile of beauty ; if for a moment I gaze entranced upon bright
speaking eyes , the thought the worm must make Us mansion there , turns all their light to darkness . All that is fair in nature remind me I must die;—if I pluck a flower to gratify my senses with its perfume , it fades so quickly that I cast it from me , and shuddering , think on death . " " Art , " he continued , pointing to the statues and pictures near him , " is alone immortal . Ages shall gaze upon the sculptor ' s triumph , and the glowing canvass—but the genius which created them is subject to the
grave . " A shudder passed through the frame of the Duke as he listened to the speaker , and the ladies turned from him with blanched cheeks and quivering lips . " Can man impart to senseless marble , or the unconscious canvass , a principle he does not in himself possess ? " demanded an old man who stood near the Duchess , and whose dress bespoke him of another land ; ic hath the philosophy of Florence taught thee no wiser lesson—life
without hope is indeed a daily death . " Peace , father P exclaimed Cosmo , angry at the unpleasant reflections thus obtruded upon him in his hours of pleasure , —" reason which tells us to enjoy the present , hath taught him only to fear the future . Andrea ! " he continued , "for one month I can dispense with you at court , when it expires , return an altered man , or return no more . " The artist bowed and quitted the palace , a thousand unquieted emotions in his hearthe directed his steps towards the Arnocrossed the Ponte
, , Vecchio , whereof old Cellini tried his apprentice hand , and pursued the path along its point , till he reached the hill of St . Minianati , at the foot of which he threw himself down to reflect in moody silence , " Why , " he at last exclaimed , " should itbe my doom , of all mankind , to feel this ceaseless misery ?—why does death haunt me like a second self ? My companions are happy and cheerful , yet they , like me , regret the superstitious inventions of priestly imagination . " Better , " he continued , " to end this
wretched state at once , better to meet the evil than pass my life in terror of it . " He gazed wistfully upon the Arno as he spoke . ' Itis deep enough , " uttered a voice beside him . Andrea started , the stranger who had addressed him at the palace was with him . " Deep enough , " repeated the artist with a faltering accent , for despite his boasted scepticism , he felt awed— " for what ? " " For an atheist ' s grave ! " answered the old man . " Thou art a singular being , and indeed hast read my feelings rightly : the superstition of the world I have long since rejected , yet wisdom hath