Page:Once a Week Jun to Dec 1864.pdf/589

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 This picture here doth surely dwarf that power Which even now the earth acknowledges!” With sudden thrill of thought I asked his name; Whereto he answered with a look of pride, “Men call me Rubens.” O the sudden chill That turned my heart to stone! Cold drops of sweat Stood beaded on my brow, I felt like one Who, toiling through a desert, sees beyond The haunts of men he fondly hoped to reach, And yet must die within their very sound. Should I forsake my convent and go forth With glory as a meteoric star To blind the eyes of men?—forget my vows, Peril mayhap the safety of my soul? “Thou shalt have wealth, whate’er thou mayst desire, By dispensation of the Holy See; Old Rome shall choose thee as her chiefest son,