But in the human countenance:  with me 150
She was a special favourite:  I had nursed
Her fine and feeble limbs when she came first
To this bleak world; and she yet seemed to know
On second sight her ancient playfellow,
Less changed than she was by six months or so; 155
For after her first shyness was worn out
We sate there, rolling billiard balls about,
When the Count entered.  Salutations past—­
’The word you spoke last night might well have cast
A darkness on my spirit—­if man be 160
The passive thing you say, I should not see
Much harm in the religions and old saws
(Tho’ I may never own such leaden laws)
Which break a teachless nature to the yoke: 
Mine is another faith.’—­thus much I spoke 165
And noting he replied not, added:  ’See
This lovely child, blithe, innocent and free;
She spends a happy time with little care,
While we to such sick thoughts subjected are
As came on you last night.  It is our will 170
That thus enchains us to permitted ill—­
We might be otherwise—­we might be all
We dream of happy, high, majestical. 
Where is the love, beauty, and truth we seek,
But in our mind? and if we were not weak 175
Should we be less in deed than in desire?’
’Ay, if we were not weak—­and we aspire
How vainly to be strong!’ said Maddalo: 
‘You talk Utopia.’  ‘It remains to know,’
I then rejoined, ’and those who try may find 180
How strong the chains are which our spirit bind;
Brittle perchance as straw...We are assured
Much may be conquered, much may be endured,
Of what degrades and crushes us.  We know
That we have power over ourselves to do 185
And suffer—­what, we know not till we try;
But something nobler than to live and die—­
So taught those kings of old philosophy
Who reigned, before Religion made men blind;
And those who suffer with their suffering kind 190
Yet feel their faith, religion.’  ‘My dear friend,’
Said Maddalo, ’my judgement will not bend
To your opinion, though I think you might
Make such a system refutation-tight
As far as words go.  I knew one like you 195
Who to this city came some months ago,
With whom I argued in this sort, and he
Is now gone mad,—­and so he answered me,—­
Poor fellow! but if you would like to go,
We’ll visit him, and his wild talk will show 200
How vain are such aspiring theories.’ 
’I hope to prove the induction otherwise,
And that a want of that true theory, still,
Which seeks a “soul of goodness” in things ill
Or in himself or others, has thus bowed