Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/259

Rh No, no! I have no wish and no regret. I speak for you. His is a sovereign soul, And all his passions loom in huger shape Than lesser men’s. He brooks no rivalry With his own offspring, and toward me his love Hath ebbed, I mark, to a more even flow, While deeper, stronger, sets the powerful current Toward you alone. Consider this, Maria, Nor wantonly discrown that sacred head Of your young love to wreathe some curled boy’s brow.

Think you his wish were that I should not wed?

Nay, that I say not, for his pride aspires To see you nobly mated.

Him will I wed Whose name is ancient, fair, and honorable, As the Ribera’s is illustrious— Him who no less than I will venerate That white, divine old head. In art his pupil, In love his son ; tender as I to watch, And to delay the slow extinguishing Of that great light.