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THE GREAT STONE FACE.
examined the poet's features; then turned towards the
Great Stone Face; then back, with an uncertain aspect,
to his guest. But his countenance fell; he shook his
head, and sighed.
Wherefore are you sad ?" inquired the poet.
"Because," replied Ernest, "all through life I have
awaited the fulfilment of a prophecy; and, when I read
these poems, I hoped that it might be fulfilled in you."
You hoped," answered the poet, faintly smiling, to
find in me the likeness of the Great Stone Face. And
you are disappointed, as formerly with Mr. Gathergold,
and Old Blood-and-Thunder, and Old Stony Phiz. Yes,
Ernest, it is my doom. You must add my name to the
illustrious three, and record another failure of your
hopes. For - in shame and sadness do I speak it, Er-
nest - I am not worthy to be typified by yonder benign
and majestic image."
And why asked Ernest. He pointed to the vol-
ume. " Are not those thoughts divine
"They have a strain of the Divinity," replied the
poet. You can hear in them the far-off echo of a heav-
enly song. But my life, dear Ernest, has not corre-
sponded with my thought. I have had grand dreams,
but they have been only dreams, because I have lived
- and that, too, by my own choice — among poor and
mean realities. Sometimes even - shall I dare to say
it ?- I lack faith in the grandeur, the beauty, and the
goodness, which my own works are said to have made
more evident in nature and in human life. Why, then,
pure seeker of the good and true, shouldst thou hope to
find me, in yonder image of the divine ?"
The poet spoke sadly, and his eyes were dim with
tears. So, likewise, were those of Ernest.
At the hour of sunset, as had long been his frequent
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"ocrText": "56\nTHE GREAT STONE FACE.\nexamined the poet's features; then turned towards the\nGreat Stone Face; then back, with an uncertain aspect,\nto his guest. But his countenance fell; he shook his\nhead, and sighed.\nWherefore are you sad ?\" inquired the poet.\n\"Because,\" replied Ernest, \"all through life I have\nawaited the fulfilment of a prophecy; and, when I read\nthese poems, I hoped that it might be fulfilled in you.\"\nYou hoped,\" answered the poet, faintly smiling, to\nfind in me the likeness of the Great Stone Face. And\nyou are disappointed, as formerly with Mr. Gathergold,\nand Old Blood-and-Thunder, and Old Stony Phiz. Yes,\nErnest, it is my doom. You must add my name to the\nillustrious three, and record another failure of your\nhopes. For - in shame and sadness do I speak it, Er-\nnest - I am not worthy to be typified by yonder benign\nand majestic image.\"\nAnd why asked Ernest. He pointed to the vol-\nume. \" Are not those thoughts divine\n\"They have a strain of the Divinity,\" replied the\npoet. You can hear in them the far-off echo of a heav-\nenly song. But my life, dear Ernest, has not corre-\nsponded with my thought. I have had grand dreams,\nbut they have been only dreams, because I have lived\n- and that, too, by my own choice — among poor and\nmean realities. Sometimes even - shall I dare to say\nit ?- I lack faith in the grandeur, the beauty, and the\ngoodness, which my own works are said to have made\nmore evident in nature and in human life. Why, then,\npure seeker of the good and true, shouldst thou hope to\nfind me, in yonder image of the divine ?\"\nThe poet spoke sadly, and his eyes were dim with\ntears. So, likewise, were those of Ernest.\nAt the hour of sunset, as had long been his frequent"
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