The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1873-04-26
EPILOGUE.

Instantly flood of emerald light filled
the room. Whether it was the glorified
smile of the real jewel-fairies at last, or
whether it flowed from the idea of the six
million pounds, who shall say? But, in
either case, the green stone itself, without
being transformed, became glorifed. Even
so does that which is despised when
thought to be worth eighteen pence be-
come the acknowledged light of the world
when known to be worth six million pounds:
and even so does that which is held to be
the light of the world become mere empty
rubbish when proven to be worth but
eighteen pence.
But myself, if may speak of myself
yet once more; am by no means satisfied
with this rough and ready way Of account
ing for the unaccountable. l have some
thing more than mere dim suspicion that
these same jewel-fairies of whom l have 80
often made mention are capricious beings
whose delight it is to blend the false mex
tricably with the true. am by no means
sure that the stone that Nathan Levi wor-
SHIPPED was always the false stone, or that
the brooch worn by Felicia was in fulness
the Great Emerald until its wearer had
proved herself in the furnace of unhsroic
suffering and in that sordid sort of martyr
dom that, giving no scope for heroic &C
ton, is the hardest martyrdom of all, to be
pearl above rubies. No doubt many will
be amply content with the matter-of-faet
way of accounting for all things suggested
with ingenuity and probability, by Count
Andreas Kromeski. But, be that as it
may, that Mr.. erode, Nathan Levi, and
Arthur Cranstoun were three men of Goth
am, has been amply proved, in for far as
they looked both high and low for what
they had but to put out their hands to
find: and, for the rest, l cannot help call
ing to mind some old-fashioned stanzas
about the jeweLfairies themselves, that
whatever their merits may be, seem as
familiar to me as if they were my own-as
indeed, perhaps they are-and which are
as follows:
We seek the sands of sunless waters:
We wander through the sun-lit air:
We shed for all Earth's sons and daughters
Our blightless blossoms everywhere.
IT'S ours within its living chamber.
To breed the jewel of the brine
IT'S We that spread the shore with amber,
And weave the wealth that lights the
mine.
And cen as Natures truth doth treasure
Within each heaving breast of hers
Some jewel for heart, to measure
The pulse strokes of her universe:
Fen as each stroke beneath its motion
Some precious thing must needs enfold-
Its gems the Earth, its pearls the Ocean,
The Flame its dragon-guardsd gold:
So human hearts, that from her fountains
Of life she fills with life, must share
The mysteries of mere and mountains,
The secret gifts of flame and air.
So to each living soul we enter:
Ger each we breathe our speechless spell,
And seal upon its secret center
The macrocosmic pentacle.
Some as the gold-souled fire are chainess
SViho, h"iu no nhis Iuat uluo tue gem.
Some as the stainless sea are stainless,
And pearls for hearts we give to them.
And one We have, one gem Supremest,
That, shewn to all, may fall to few:
IT'S when thou hopest, lowest dreamest
That thou dost find the path thereto.
The sky's glad gold, the oceans whiteness,
The green-robed earth by morn i'm
pearled,
Charge with an iridescent brightness
Our opal mirror Of the world:
And when, from rocks by storm waves
rended,
Some purer soul to sight is called,
Then in that gem supremely blended,
Are Gold, and Pearl, and Emerald.