[Untitled]

The coward soul clings feebly to his aim; A little while the flints of foreign zeal May strike live sparkles from his bosom’s steel, And light his withered heart to sudden flame, And yet a little, the quick fires grow tame; Their flickering lights make giant terrors reel O’er the dim curtains that his goal conceal, And on his cheek their glow is but of shame. Paltering and weak before the awful shrine Of a neglected greatness, and the jeers Of a half-flouted world, he stands supine, Till the last doom comes shattering through the sphere To drift his dry heart on the whirlwind’s breath, Till he dare snatch his life from the full hand of death! The Good to which his purer thought aspired, The noble love, and beauty’s holler sense, – That warder Angel who in mute suspense Held passion’s brood and promptings basely aired, By the sweet music of her many-choired High-templed worship, – beams no longer thence From her pure throne a gladdening influence To his gross vision, into vengance fixed, [?] She glares disstrous on his evil road, – A fiend to haunt, through the night of sin, Her silken love-knots are a torturing goad, Her chaste kiss burns him to the core within; He has aspired, and turn him where he will The eternal Good he saw shall haunt his downfall still! Better have never seen the morning face Of Truth the beautiful, then, having seen, To turn and scorn her; for that eye serene Can flash indignant lightnings to erase The dastard’s insult; better far to chase The eternal mockery of the Circean queen Than, having heard the golden mandolin Of Duty the Archangel, with a base Betrayal to desert her! for that lyre, Melodious to her lover, lends the steel Of its strong chords to clang the thunder-peal Of her indignant soul, if one deny her Who had touched her palm in fealty! Heaven were fire To him who woos, to flout, her holy marriage seal!