We have no balm to give thee. Festal rites,
And joyous sacrifice, the song, the dance,
Performed in praise and honour, form alone
The duties of our office. Jupiter
Deigns not to give commission to his priests
To pardon criminals. Seek other shrines,
And bend the knee to foreign deities;
Thou canst not move the gods of Greece and Rome.
Constantine.
Despite thyself thou giv'st me hope,—speak! say
Where shall I bend my steps where seek the fount
Whence mercy springs?
Valerius.
Turn to the living God!
Forsake these idols made by human hands,
These dumb insensate marble images,
And seek redemption form that Holy One,
The wonderful, the marvellous! whose name's
Above all powers of magic, far above
The sorcerer's nightly rites[1], Thessalian drugs,
