He desires the highest life, and he praises the king because he has acknowledged by his gifts the joy that Art gives to life; and most of all he praises him, because he too aspires, building a mighty tower, not that men may look at it, but that he may gaze from its height on the sun, and think what higher he may attain.

The tower is the symbol of the cry of the king's soul.
Then he answers the king's letter.

"It is true, O king, I am poet, sculptor, painter, architect, philosopher, musician; all arts are mine.
Have I done as well as the great men of old?
No, but I have combined their excellences into one man, into myself.
"I have not chanted verse like Homer, no-- Nor swept string like Terpander--no--nor carved And painted men like Phidias and his friend: I am not great as they are, point by point.
But I have entered into sympathy With these four, running these into one soul, Who, separate, ignored each other's art.
Say, is it nothing that I know them all?
"This, since the best in each art has already been done, was the only progress possible, and I have made it.

It is not unworthy, king! "Well, now thou askest, if having done this, 'I have not attained the very crown of life; if I cannot now comfortably and fearlessly meet death ?' 'I, Cleon, leave,' thou sayest, 'my life behind me in my poems, my pictures; I am immortal in my work.

What more can life desire ?'" It is the question so many are asking now, and it is the answer now given.