SOUL of light in stone enthroned Is the precious diamond; Son of light, do thou endure, Like this gem, still strong and pure!
READ, wanderer, a husband's moan: My wife was young and fair! Now lies upon her heart a stone, And mine--is light as air!
FALSEHOOD, O man! delights thine eye: Thou teachest even stones to lie!
GIVE him to drink of Lethe's wave! why not Let the poor bard forget that he's forgot?
FRANKLY, ladies' tongues, confess Ye must wag perforce: Faith! the sex might, as I guess, Without tongues discourse!
NEARCH is blind, and deaf, and lame, The prey of time's corrosive greed, And long of crafty heirs the game; When will the dead man die indeed?
YOUTH, with chaplets grace thy brow, But the garland choose with care; Wreathed with laurel fadeth late, Wreathed with myrtle soon, the hair.
LET warning wisdom's kindly speech Thy friend his faults and failings show; But let thy mute example teach The love of virtue to thy foe.
LIST a mortal's quest, sweet Pleasure! Why so fleeting?--answer, pray: Lost as soon as found, thy treasure! None can thy dear presence stay.
Thank thou, Fate, she cried, whose minions, All the gods, love me alone; Were I fashioned without pinions, They would keep me for their own!
MORE than a week had elapsed since the rupture between Rhoneland and Rust; and during that period Jacob neither saw him nor heard from him. But in that interval he had become confirmed in his purpose of resistance; and had resolved, come what might, to risk any thing, rather than submit to the mental bondage which had hitherto crushed him. Steadfast in this purpose, he quietly awaited the movements of his adversary.
On one fine afternoon, the bright rays of a setting sun streaming through the window fell upon the face of the old man, as he was dozing in his room, and awakened him. Starting to his feet, and casting his eyes hurriedly about him, he exclaimed; 'I tell you no; I tell you _no_, Michael Rust. It shall never be! Ah Kate!' said he, looking about the room, and seeing no one except his daughter, 'it's you, is it?--only you? And I've been dreaming? Well, well; thank God it was no worse! It's strange I should have dreamed that Michael Rust wanted you, Kate, and asked for you. But no matter; kiss me, child. We've done with him. There's a comfort in that. We shall be quite happy--happy as we once were. Shall we not, Kate?'