Far better on some natural lawn
To see the morn its gems bestrew,
Or watch it weeping pearls of dew
Within the white arms of the dawn;
Or view, before the sun, the stars
Drive o'er the brightening plain their swiftly-fading cars.
Far better in the mighty main,
As night comes on, and clouds grow grey,
To see the golden coach of day
Drive down amid the waves of Spain.
But be it dark, or be it bright,
O Lord! I praise Thy name by day and night.
Than to endure the inner strife,
The specious glare, but real weight
Of pomp, and power, and pride, and state,
And all the vanities of life;
How would we shudder could we deem
That life itself, in truth, is but a fleeting dream.
* * * * *
SCENE VII.
LUIS. -- POLONIA.
LUIS [aside]. True to my purpose on I go,
With footsteps firm and bosom brave,
Seeking for that mysterious cave
Wherein the pitying heavens will show
How I salvation there may gain,
By bearing in this life the Purgatorial pain.
[To POLONIA.
Tell me, O holy woman! thou
Who in these wilds a home hast found,
A dweller in this mountain ground
Obedient to some sacred vow,
Which is the road to Patrick's cave,
Where penitential man his soul in life may save?
POLONIA. O, happy traveller! who here
Hast come so far in storm and shine,
Within this treasury divine
To feel and find salvation near,
Well can I guide thee on thy way,
Since 'tis for this alone amid these wilds I stray.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90