And yet the quest of
beauty, like the quest of truth, reaps its surest reward when it is
disinterested as well as keen; and the true lover of human-kind will
often draw his most exquisite moments from what to most men seems
but the shadow of a joy. Especially, as in this case, his heart will
be prodigal of the impulses of that protecting tenderness which it
is the blessing of early girlhood to draw forth unwittingly, and to
enjoy unknown,--affections which lead to no declaration, and desire
no return; which are the spontaneous effluence of the very Spirit of
Love in man; and which play and hover around winning innocence like
the coruscations round the head of the unconscious Iulus, a soft and
unconsuming flame.
It was well, perhaps, that Wordsworth's romance should come to him
in this remote and fleeting fashion. For to the Priest of Nature it
was fitting that all things else should be harmonious, indeed, but
accessory; that joy should not be so keen, nor sorrow no desolating,
nor love itself so wildly strong, as to prevent him from going out
upon the mountains with a heart at peace, and receiving "in a wise
passiveness" the voices of earth and heaven.
CHAPTER VI.
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