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The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 2
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And yet, were all done and past,
I should feel just as small,
For when I had tried to the very last—
'Twas my duty, after all!
It is only much the same
As not being liar or thief!
The Father answers.
One who tried it found even, with shame,
That of sinners he was the chief!
My boy, I am glad indeed
You have been finding the truth!
Willie speaks.
But where's the good? I shall never speed—
Be one whit greater, in sooth!
If duty itself must fail,
And that be the only plan,
How shall my scarce begun duty prevail
To make me a mighty man?
The Father answers.
Ah, Willie! what if it were
Quite another way to fall?
What if the greatness itself lie there—
In knowing that you are small?
In seeing the good so good
That you feel poor, weak, and low;
And hungrily long for it as for food,
With an endless need to grow?
The man who was lord of fate,
Born in an ox's stall,
Was great because he was much too great
To care about greatness at all.
Ever and only he sought
The will of his Father good;
Never of what was high he thought,
But of what his Father would.
You long to be great; you try;
You feel yourself smaller still:
In the name of God let ambition die;
Let him make you what he will.
Who does the truth, is one
With the living Truth above:
Be God's obedient little son,
Let ambition die in love.
KING COLE
King Cole he reigned in Aureoland,
But the sceptre was seldom in his hand
Far oftener was there his golden cup—
He ate too much, but he drank all up!
To be called a king and to be a king,
That is one thing and another thing!
So his majesty's head began to shake,
And his hands and his feet to swell and ache,
The doctors were called, but they dared not say
Your majesty drinks too much Tokay;
So out of the king's heart died all mirth,
And he thought there was nothing good on earth.
Then up rose the fool, whose every word
Was three parts wise and one part absurd.
Nuncle, he said, never mind the gout;
I will make you laugh till you laugh it out.
King Cole pushed away his full gold plate:
The jester he opened the palace gate,
Brought in a cold man, with hunger grim,
And on the dais-edge seated him;
Then caught up the king's own golden plate,
And set it beside him: oh, how he ate!
And the king took note, with a pleased surprise,
That he ate with his mouth and his cheeks and his eyes,
With his arms and his legs and his body whole,
And laughed aloud from his heart and soul.
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