“仙女!精灵说。她凝视着魔法女王的空灵的眼睛，“我感谢你。你给了我一个我不会放弃的恩惠，给了我一个不能忘记的教训。我了解过去，我要设法从过去吸取教训，为将来作好准备，使人能从错误中吸取教训，从愚蠢中汲取经验;因为，当传递快乐的力量与意志相等时，人类的灵魂就不再需要另一个天堂了。”玛:至高的灵啊，求你回转!还有很多东西没有被扫描。你知道人的伟大，也知道他的卑微。但你要知道他是什么;然而，你要了解不安宁的时间为每一个活着的灵魂准备的崇高命运。 'Behold a gorgeous palace that amid Yon populous city rears its thousand towers And seems itself a city. Gloomy troops Of sentinels in stern and silent ranks Encompass it around; the dweller there Cannot be free and happy; hearest thou not The curses of the fatherless, the groans Of those who have no friend? He passes on- The King, the wearer of a gilded chain That binds his soul to abjectness, the fool Whom courtiers nickname monarch, whilst a slave Even to the basest appetites-that man Heeds not the shriek of penury; he smiles At the deep curses which the destitute Mutter in secret, and a sullen joy Pervades his bloodless heart when thousands groan But for those morsels which his wantonness Wastes in unjoyous revelry, to save All that they love from famine; when he hears The tale of horror, to some ready-made face Of hypocritical assent he turns, Smothering the glow of shame, that, spite of him, Flushes his bloated cheek. Now to the meal Of silence, grandeur and excess he drags His palled unwilling appetite. If gold, Gleaming around, and numerous viands culled From every clime could force the loathing sense To overcome satiety,-if wealth The spring it draws from poisons not,-or vice, Unfeeling, stubborn vice, converteth not Its food to deadliest venom; then that king Is happy; and the peasant who fulfils His unforced task, when he returns at even And by the blazing fagot meets again Her welcome for whom all his toil is sped, Tastes not a sweeter meal. Behold him now Stretched on the gorgeous couch; his fevered brain Reels dizzily awhile; but ah! too soon The slumber of intemperance subsides, And conscience, that undying serpent, calls Her venomous brood to their nocturnal task. Listen! he speaks! oh! mark that frenzied eye- Oh! mark that deadly visage!' KING 'No cessation! Oh! must this last forever! Awful death, I wish, yet fear to clasp thee!-Not one moment Of dreamless sleep! O dear and blessèd Peace, Why dost thou shroud thy vestal purity In penury and dungeons? Wherefore lurkest With danger, death, and solitude; yet shun'st The palace I have built thee? Sacred Peace! Oh, visit me but once,-but pitying shed One drop of balm upon my withered soul!' THE FAIRY 'Vain man! that palace is the virtuous heart, And Peace defileth not her snowy robes In such a shed as thine. Hark! yet he mutters; His slumbers are but varied agonies; They prey like scorpions on the springs of life. There needeth not the hell that bigots frame To punish those who err; earth in itself Contains at once the evil and the cure; And all-sufficing Nature can chastise Those who transgress her law; she only knows How justly to proportion to the fault The punishment it merits. Is it strange That this poor wretch should pride him in his woe? Take pleasure in his abjectness, and hug The scorpion that consumes him? Is it strange That, placed on a conspicuous throne of thorns, Grasping an iron sceptre, and immured Within a splendid prison whose stern bounds Shut him from all that's good or dear on earth, His soul asserts not its humanity? That man's mild nature rises not in war Against a king's employ? No-'tis not strange. He, like the vulgar, thinks, feels, acts, and lives Just as his father did; the unconquered powers Of precedent and custom interpose Between a king and virtue. Stranger yet, To those who know not Nature nor deduce The future from the present, it may seem, That not one slave, who suffers from the crimes Of this unnatural being, not one wretch, Whose children famish and whose nuptial bed Is earth's unpitying bosom, rears an arm To dash him from his throne! Those gilded flies That, basking in the sunshine of a court, Fatten on its corruption! what are they?- The drones of the community; they feed On the mechanic's labor; the starved hind For them compels the stubborn glebe to yield Its unshared harvests; and yon squalid form, Leaner than fleshless misery, that wastes A sunless life in t