Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/120

106 Hath won the right to intercede with God. No sins of his own flesh hath he to purge,— The Cardinal Filippo,—he abides, Within the Holy City. Seek him out; This is my only counsel,—through thyself Can be no help and no forgiveness.&quot; How different from the buoyant joy of morn Was this discouraged sense of lassitude, Wherewith the pilgrim, midst a summer rain, Pursued his progress through the cheerless squares! The Bishop’s words were ringing in his ears, Measured and pitiless, and, blent with these, The memory of the goddess last wild cry,— &quot; Once being mine, thou art forever mine.&quot; Was it the truth, despite his penitence, And dedication of his thought to God, That still some portion of himself was hers, Some lust survived, some criminal regret, For her corrupted love ? He searched his heart: All was remorse, religious and sincere, And yet her dreadful curse still haunted him; For all men shunned him, and denied him help, Knowing at once in looking on his face, Ploughed with deep lines and prematurely old, That he had struggled with some deadly fiend, And that he was no longer kin to them. Just past the outskirts of the town, he stopped, To strengthen will and courage to proceed.