Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/123

Rh 'Those who follow earthly pleasure,

Heavenly knowledge will not lead;

Wisdom hides from them her treasure,

Virtue bids them evil-speed!

'Vainly may their hearts repenting,

Seek for aid in future years;

Wisdom, scorned, knows no relenting;

Virtue is not won by fears.'

Thus spake the ice-blooded elder gray;

The young man scoffed as he turned away,

Turned to the call of a sweet lute's measure,

Waked by the lightsome touch of pleasure:

Had he ne'er met a gentler teacher,

Woe had been wrought by that pitiless preacher.