That marks his face? ... Is that Eugene? !
That figure with the strange expression?
Can that be he? It is, I say.
'But when did fate cast him our way?
8
'Is he the same, or is he learning?
Or does he play the outcast still?
In what new guise is he returning?
What role does he intend to fill?
Childe Harold? Melmoth for a while?
Cosmopolite? A Slavophile?
A Quaker? Bigot?might one ask?
Or will he sport some other mask?
Or maybe he's just dedicated,
Like you and me, to being nice?
In any case, here's my advice:
Give up a role when it's outdated.
He's gulled the world . . . now let it go.'
'You know him then?' 'Well, yes and no.'
9
But why on earth does he inspire
So harsh and negative a view?
Is it because we never tire
Of censuring what others do?
Because an ardent spirit's daring
Appears absurd or overbearing
From where the smug and worthless sit?
Because the dull are cramped by wit?
Because we take mere talk for action,
And malice rules a petty mind?
Because in tripe the solemn find
A cause for solemn satisfaction,
And mediocrity alone
Is what we like and call our own?
10
Oh, blest who in his youth was tender;
And blest who ripened in his prime;
Who learned to bear, without surrender,
The chill of life with passing time;
Who never knew exotic visions,
Nor scorned the social mob's decisions;
Who was at twenty fop or swell,
And then at thirty, married well,
At fifty shed all obligation
For private and for other debts;
Who gained in turn, without regrets,
Great wealth and rank and reputation;
Of whom lifelong the verdict ran:
'Old X is quite a splendid man.'
11
