Thou too, when thou against my crimes wouldst cry,
Let thy foreboded homage check thy tongue!"—
The world speaks well; yet might her foe reply,
"Are wills so weak? then let not mine wait long!
Hast thou so rare a poison? let me be
Keener to slay thee, lest thou poison me!"
STAGIRIUS.3
Thou, who dost dwell alone;
Thou, who dost know thine own;
Thou, to whom all are known
From the cradle to the grave,—
Save, oh! save.
From the world's temptations,
From tribulations,
From that fierce anguish
Wherein we languish,
From that torpor deep
Wherein we lie asleep,
Heavy as death, cold as the grave,
Save, oh! save.
When the soul, growing clearer,
Sees God no nearer;
When the soul, mounting higher,
To God comes no nigher;
But the arch-fiend Pride
Mounts at her side,
Foiling her high emprise,
Sealing her eagle eyes,
And, when she fain would soar,
