_The two together_: Kinsmen, what is
mother-wit
But the light of these?
Knowing these, what is there more
For learning in your little years?
Are not these all gospels bright
Shining on your day?
How then shall your hearts be sore
With envy and her brood of fears,
How forget the words of light
From the mountain-way? ...

Blessed are the merciful....
Does not every threshold seek
Meadows and the flight of birds
For compassion still?
Blessed are the merciful....
Are we pilgrims yet to speak
Out of Olivet the words
Of knowledge and good-will?

_First Chronicler_: Two years of darkness, and this man but grows
Greater in resolution, more constant in compassion.
He goes
The way of dominion in pitiful, high-hearted fashion.


SCENE III.