48
PRIVATION.
Oh! at the Muse-crowned temple of the one,And at the other's lonely sepulchrePause thou, my soul, and ponder deeply thenceThe paths of Fate, and choosing, dare not err.
Hast thou the high, heroic heart to walk,Or wait, receptive of the distant tone!Or wouldst thou sit to revel, and crush outLifeblood of others, mingled with thine own?
Wilt thou rest guardian of these simpler loves,Leading the dull, the passionless, the weak?Or, desperate, rush to Lido's charmèd shore,To fling wild kisses on a hireling's cheek?
Oh! treasured in the hand.that cannot failLet thy poor life, through want and waiting lie,Radiant in anguish, comforted of tears,If the deep voice but whisper: it is I.
