# Littell's Living Age/Volume 134/Issue 1734/A Sylvan Reverie

* A SYLVAN REVERIE.
* Scene, — Hawarden Park. — Mr. Gladstone
* discovered engaged in felling a tree, surrounded by
* fourteen hundred Liberals of Bolton. He strikes a
* few blows; the crowd cheer vociferously. Mr. Gladstone
* pauses from his labors, reflects a few moments,
* and then sings sotto voce: —
* How sweet are the sounds of the popular voice
* In an ex-ministerial ear!
* How surely I know that the national choice
* Must go with the noisiest cheer!
* As I gaze upon votaries faithful as those,
* And their incense of worship ascends,
* I forget for a moment the malice of foes
* And — still better — the coldness of friends.
* I feel I am great, and I know I am good,
* And no longer regret my position
* As statesman who's taken to chopping of wood
* And abandoned the paths of ambition.
* Is it vanity prompting me? is it self-love?
* Can I, safe in my conscience, decide
* That it is not such feelings my bosom that move?
* Yes ... I think it's legitimate pride.
* I am not — or I hope not — a lover of praise;
* I am humble — I hope so at least.
* It will do me no harm — on occasional days —
* Such a rich popularity-feast.
* For perhaps I am great, and I think I am good,
* And it's surely a mark of submission
* To take, though a statesman, to chopping of wood,
* And abandon the paths of ambition.
* [He strikes a few more blows with his axe: then again
* pauses. The cheering is renewed.]
* How simple I look! how unconsciously grand,
* As I rest from my toil for a space,
* With my waistcoat thrown off, and my axe in my hand,
* And humanity's dew on my face!
* Oh, my brethren in toil, who stand wond'ring around,
* By what ties have I bound you to me!
* An orator, scholar, and statesman renowned,
* Condescending to cut down a tree!
* Yes, I know I am great, something tells me I'm good;
* And I feel it's a lofty position,
* A statesman's, who's taken to chopping of wood,
* And forsaken the paths of ambition.
* [He gazes round him for a few moments with visibly
* increasing complacency.]
* The consular woodman! this citizen-host!
* Could the old world's imperial queen
* In the days of her early simplicity boast
* A more nobly republican scene?
* Let me think, as I watch the admirers who note
* The simple pursuits of my home,
* Of Lucius Quinctius summoned by vote
* Of the State from the furrow to Rome.
* Yes, I feel I am great, and I know I am good,
* And I'm greater by far, with submission,
* As statesman, when occupied chopping of wood
* Than when treading the paths of ambition.
* But Rome? Is it Roman or Greek that's recalled?
* 'Tis the heroes so dear to my pen,
* Pelides, whose war-cry the Trojans appalled,
* Agamemnon the leader of men.
* For have I not led men aright when astray?
* Turned them back from the false to the true?
* And do not the Tories and Turks with dismay
* Recollect what my war-cry can do?
* Yes, yes, I am great, and I surely am good,
* Or I could not endure the position
* Of statesman resigned to the chopping of wood,
* And renouncing the paths of ambition.
* But both Roman dictator and Danaan chief
* In one cardinal point I excel,
* For I am — as I hazard the humble belief —
* Conscientiously Christian as well.
* And content with all this, let detractors repeat —
* As with angry persistence they do —
* That my claim to their homage I p'r'aps might complete
* Were I only an Englishman too.
* Let them rave — I am great; let them sneer — I am good;
* And they vex not the happy condition
* Of statesmen who, taking to chopping of wood,
* Have abandoned the paths of ambition.
* Pall Mall Gazette.