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Chapter XXXII

           Ihavebroughtyouabookforeveningsolace,"andhelaidonthetableanewpublicationapoem:oneofthosegenuineproductionssooftenvouchsafedtothefortunatepublicofthosedaysthegoldenageofmodernliterature. Alas!thereadersofoureraarelessfavoured.Butcourage!Iwillnotpauseeithertoaccuseorrepine. Iknowpoetryisnotdead,norgeniuslost;norhasMammongainedpowerovereither,tobindorslay:theywillbothasserttheirexistence,theirpresence,theirlibertyandstrengthagainoneday. Powerfulangels,safeinheaven!theysmilewhensordidsoulstriumph,andfeebleonesweepovertheirdestruction. Poetrydestroyed?Geniusbanished?No!Mediocrity,no:donotletenvypromptyoutothethought. No;theynotonlylive,butreignandredeem:andwithouttheirdivineinfluencespreadeverywhere,youwouldbeinhellthehellofyourownmeanness. 

           WhileIwaseagerlyglancingatthebrightpagesof"Marmion"(for"Marmion"itwas),St.Johnstoopedtoexaminemydrawing. Histallfiguresprangerectagainwithastart:hesaidnothing. Ilookedupathim:heshunnedmyeye. Iknewhisthoughtswell,andcouldreadhisheartplainly;atthemomentIfeltcalmerandcoolerthanhe:Ihadthentemporarilytheadvantageofhim,andIconceivedaninclinationtodohimsomegood,ifIcould. 

           "Withallhisfirmnessandself-control,"thoughtI,"hetaskshimselftoofar:lockseveryfeelingandpangwithinexpresses,confesses,impartsnothing. 

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