than they are in their present wretchedness.  Failure that leaves an unreached ideal before the soul is in reality a greater boon than success which thinks perfect satisfaction has been reached.  Their aim at perfection is right:  what is wrong is their view that failure is ruin, and not a prophecy of a greater glory to come.  Could they have thought perfection were attained on earth—­were they satisfied with anything this world can give, no longer stung with hunger for the infinite—­all Paradise, with the illimitable glories, were closed to them!

Few passages are more beautiful in English poetry than that in which Aprile narrates his youthful aspiration:  how, loving all things infinitely, he wished to throw them into absolute beauty of form by means of all the arts, for the love of men, and receive from men love for having revealed beauty, and merge at last in God, the Eternal Love.  This was his huge aim, his full desire.

Few passages are more pathetic than that in which he tells his failure and its cause.  “Time is short; the means of life are limited; we have no means answering to our desires.  Now I am wrecked; for the multitudinous images of beauty which filled my mind forbade my seizing upon one which I could have shaped.  I often wished to give one to the world, but the others came round and baffled me; and, moreover, I could not leave the multitude of beauty for the sake of one beauty.  Unless I could embody all I would embody none.

“And, afterwards, when a cry came from man, ’Give one ray even of your hoarded light to us,’ and I tried for man’s sake to select one, why, then, mists came—­old memories of a thousand sweetnesses, a storm of images—­till it was impossible to choose; and so I failed, and life is ended.

“But could I live I would do otherwise.  I would give a trifle out of beauty, as an example by which men could guess the rest and love it all; one strain from an angel’s song; one flower from the distant land, that men might know that such things were.  Then, too, I would put common life into loveliness, so that the lowest hind would find me beside him to put his weakest hope and fear into noble language.  And as I thus lived with men, and for them, I should win from them thoughts fitted for their progress, the very commonest of which would come forth in beauty, for they would have been born in a soul filled full of love.  This should now be my aim:  no longer that desire to embrace the whole of beauty which isolates a man from his fellows; but to realise enough of loveliness to give pleasure to men who desire to love.  Therefore, I should live, still aspiring to the whole, still uncontent, but waiting for another life to gain the whole; but at the same time content, for man’s sake, to work within the limitations of life; not grieving either for failure, because love given and received makes failure pleasure.  In truth, the failure to grasp all on earth makes, if we love, the certainty of a success beyond the earth.”