Chapter 8

_Julian_. Once more I tread thy courts, O God of heaven! I lay my hand upon a rock, whose peak Is miles away, and high amid the clouds. Perchance I touch the mountain whose blue summit, With the fantastic rock upon its side, Stops the eye's flight from that high chamber-window Where, when a boy, I used to sit and gaze With wondering awe upon the mighty thing, Terribly calm, alone, self-satisfied, The _hitherto_ of my child-thoughts. Beyond, A sea might roar around its base. Beyond, Might be the depths of the unfathomed space, This the earth's bulwark over the abyss. Upon its very point I have watched a star For a few moments crown it with a fire, As of an incense-offering that blazed Upon this mighty altar high uplift, And then float up the pathless waste of heaven. From the next window I could look abroad Over a plain unrolled, which God had painted With trees, and meadow-grass, and a large river, Where boats went to and fro like water-flies, In white and green; but still I turned to look At that one mount, aspiring o'er its fellows: All here I saw--I knew not what was there. O love of knowledge and of mystery, Striving together in the heart of man! "Tell me, and let me know; explain the thing."-- Then when the courier-thoughts have circled round: "Alas! I know it all; its charm is gone!" But I must hasten; else the sun will set Before I reach the smoother valley-road. I wonder if my old nurse lives; or has Eyes left to know me with. Surely, I think, Four years of wandering since I left my home, In sunshine and in snow, in ship and cell, Must have worn changes in this face of mine Sufficient to conceal me, if I will.