With other eyes, too, could I now look upon my fellow man; with an infinite Love, with an infinite Pity. Poor, wandering, wayward man! Art thou not tired, and beaten with stripes, even as I am? Ever, whether thou bear the royal mantle or the beggars gabardine, art thou not so weary, so heavy-laden; and thy Bed of Rest is but a Grave. O my Brother, my Brother, why cannot I shelter thee in my bosom, and wipe away all tears from thy eyes! Truly, the din of many-voiced Life, which, in this solitude, with the minds organ, I could hear, was no longer a maddening discord, but a melting one; like inarticulate cries, and sobbings of a dumb creature, which in the ear of Heaven are prayers. The poor Earth, with her poor joys, was now my Needy Mother, not my cruel Stepdame; Man, with his so mad Wants and his so mean Endeavours, had become the dearest to me; and even for his sufferings and his sins, I now first named him Brother. Thus was I standing in the porch of that Sanctuary of Sorrow; by strange, steep ways had I too been guided thither; and ere long its sacred gates would open, and the Divine Depth of Sorrow lie disclosed to me. 4 CONTENTS · BOOK CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD