SLANDER
41
What deep penetration! what powers of thought!
To be wasted, alas! on a circumscribed spot,
Oh, heart! if such talents you only could claim,
You would win for yourself the great garland of fame!
To be wasted, alas! on a circumscribed spot,
Oh, heart! if such talents you only could claim,
You would win for yourself the great garland of fame!
But lo! all these gifted ones set down content,
One poor mortal's vices with power to paint;
They tie in a bag, and lie at her door,
All the dark tales they brew in an inspired hour.
One poor mortal's vices with power to paint;
They tie in a bag, and lie at her door,
All the dark tales they brew in an inspired hour.
To some Satan comes as an angel of light,
Enticing his victims away from the right;
To you, heart, he came, prepared to devour,
When he knew you were pierced, in affliction's sad hour.
Enticing his victims away from the right;
To you, heart, he came, prepared to devour,
When he knew you were pierced, in affliction's sad hour.
