Alas! my trials have not yet begun.
Jabaster warned me: good, sincere Jabaster! His talisman presses on my
frantic heart, and seems to warn me. I am in danger. Braggart to
stand here, filling the careless air with idle words, while all is
unaccomplished. I grow dull. The young King of Karasme! Why, what am I
compared to this same prince? Nothing, but in my thoughts. In the full
bazaar, they would not deem me worthy even to hold his stirrup or
his slipper---- Oh! this contest, this constant, bitter, never-ending
contest between my fortune and my fancy! Why do I exist? or, if
existing, why am I not recognised as I would be?
'Sweet voice, that in Jabaster's distant cave de-scendedst from thy holy
home above, and whispered consolation, breathe again! Again breathe thy
still summons to my lonely ear, and chase away the thoughts that hover
round me; thoughts dark and doubtful, like fell birds of prey hovering
around a hero in expectation of his fall, and gloating on their triumph
over the brave. There is something fatal in these crowded cities. Faith
flourishes in solitude.'
He threw himself upon the couch, and, leaning down his head, seemed lost
in meditation. He started up, and, seizing his tablets, wrote upon them
these words:
'Honain, I have been the whole night like David in the wilderness of
Ziph; but, by the aid of the Lord, I have conquered.
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