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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"A Dish of Orts : Chiefly Papers on the Imagination, and on Shakespeare"

"O land of shadows!" well may such a one cry! "land where the
shadows love to ecstatic self-loss, yet forget, and love no more! land
of sorrows and despairs, that sink the soul into a deeper Tophet than
death has ever sounded! broken kaleidoscope! shaken camera! promiser,
speaking truth to the ear, but lying to the sense! land where the heart
of my friend is sorrowful as my heart--the more sorrowful that I have
been but a poor and far-off friend! land where sin is strong and
righteousness faint! where love dreams mightily and walks abroad so
feeble! land where the face of my father is dust, and the hand of my
mother will never more caress! where my children will spend a few years
of like trouble to mine, and then drop from the dream into the no-dream!
gladly, O land of sickliest shadows--gladly, that is, with what power of
gladness is in me, I take my leave of thee! Welcome the cold,
pain-soothing embrace of immortal Death! Hideous are his looks, but I
love him better than Life: he is true, and will not deceive us. Nay, he
only is our saviour, setting us free from the tyranny of the false that
ought to be true, and sets us longing in vain.


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