Page:Felicia Hemans in The Winter's Wreath 1831.pdf/20

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Of keenest temper, and unerring aim, Wherewith to pierce our souls. But thou, beware, Sebastian lives!

. If it be so, and thou Art of his followers still, then bid him seek Far in the wilds which gave one sepulchre To his proud hosts, a kingdom and a home, For none is left him here.

. This is to live An age of wisdom in an hour! The man Whose Empire, as in scorn, o'erpassed the bounds E'en of the infinite Deep; whose orient realms Lay bright beneath the Morning, while the clouds Were brooding, in their sunset mantle still, O'er his majestic regions of the West; This heir of far dominion shall return, And, in the very city of his birth, Shall find no home! Aye, I will tell him this, And he will answer that the tale is false, False as a traitor's hollow words of love, And that the stately dwelling, in whose halls We commune now—a friend's, a monarch's gift, Unto the chosen of his heart, Sylveira, Should yield him still a welcome.

. Fare thee well. I may not pause to hear thee, for thy words Are full of danger, and of snares, perchance Laid by some treacherous foe. But all in vain. I mock thy wiles to scorn.

. Ha! ha! the snake