he world; men love not
darkness, they do love light. A deep feeling of the eternal nature of
Justice looks out among us everywhere,--even through the dull eyes of
Exeter Hall; an unspeakable religiousness struggles, in the most
helpless manner, to speak itself, in Puseyisms and the like. Of our
Cant, all condemnable, how much is not condemnable without pity; we
had almost said, without respect! The _in_articulate worth and truth
that is in England goes down yet to the Foundations.

Some 'Chivalry of Labour,' some noble Humanity and practical
Divineness of Labour, will yet be realised on this Earth. Or why
_will_; why do we pray to Heaven, without setting our own shoulder to
the wheel? The Present, if it will have the Future accomplish, shall
itself commence. Thou who prophesiest, who believest, begin thou to
fulfil. Here or nowhere, now equally as at any time! That outcast
help-needing thing or person, trampled down under vulgar feet or
hoofs, no help 'possible' for it, no prize offered for the saving of
it,--canst not thou save it, then, without prize? Put forth thy hand,
in God's name; know that 'impossible,' where Truth and Mercy and the
everlasting Voice of Nature order, has no place in the brave man's
dictionary. That when all men have said "Impossible," and tumbled
noisily elsewhither, and thou alone art left, then first thy time and
possibility have come. It is for thee now; do thou that, and ask no
man's counsel, but thy own only, and God's. Brother, thou hast
possibility in thee for much: the possibility of writing on the
eternal skies the record of a heroic life. That noble downfallen or
yet unborn 'Impossibility,' thou canst lift it up, thou canst, by thy
soul's travail, bring it into clear being. That loud inane Actuality,
with millions in its pocket, too 'possible' that, which rolls along
there, with quilted trumpeters blaring round it, and all the world
escorting it as mute or vocal flunky,--escort it not thou; say to it,
either nothing, or else deeply in thy heart: "Loud-blaring Nonentity,
no force of trumpets, cash, Long-acre art, or universal flunkyhood of
men, makes thee an Entity; thou art a _Non_entity, and deceptive
Simulacrum, more accursed than thou seemest. Pass on in the Devil's
name, unworshipped by at least one man, and leave the thoroughfare
clear!"

Not on Ilion's or Latium's plains; on far other plains and places
henceforth can noble deeds be now done. Not on Ilion's plains; how
much les