XVIII. They grubbed with a will: and at length-O cor No ring, no rose, but-who would have guessed?— A double Louis-d'or! XIX. Here was a case for the priest: he heard, Marked, inwardly digested, laid Finger on nose, smiled, "A little bird Chirps in my ear:" then, "Bring a spade, "Dig deeper!"-he gave the word. XX. And lo, when they came to the coffin-lid, A mint of money, it served for the nonce XXI. Hid there? Why? Could the girl be wont XXII. Truth is truth: too true it was. Gold! She hoarded and hugged it first, Longed for it, leaned o'er it, loved it-alasTill the humour grew to a head and burst, And she cried, at the final pass,― XXIII. "Talk not of God, my heart is stone! "Nor lover nor friend-be gold for both! "Gold I lack; and, my all, my own, "It shall hide in my hair. I scarce die loth "If they let my hair alone!" XXIV. Louis-d'ors, some six times five, And duly double, every piece. Now, do you see? With the priest to shrive, XXV. With heaven's gold gates about to ope, With friends' praise, gold-like, lingering still, An instinct had hidden the girl's hand grope For gold, the true sort-" Gold in heaven, if you will; "But I keep earth's too, I hope." XXVI. Enough! The priest took the grave's grim yield: The parents, they eyed that price of sin As if thirty pieces lay revealed On the place to bury strangers in, The hideous Potter's Field. XXVII. But the priest bethought him: "Milk that's spilt' "Saints tumble to earth with so slight a tilt! XXVIII. Why I deliver this horrible verse? As the text of a sermon, which now I preach. Evil or good may be better or worse In the human heart, but the mixture of each Is a marvel and a curse. XXIX. The candid incline to surmise of late That the Christian faith may be false, I find; For our Essays-and-Reviews' debate Begins to tell on the public mind, And Colenso's words have weight: XXX. I still, to suppose it true, for my part, The Corruption of Man's Heart. THE STATUE AND THE BUST. THERE's a palace in Florence, the world knows well, And a statue watches it from the square, And this story of both do our townsmen tell. Ages ago, a lady there, At the farthest window facing the East The bridesmaids' prattle around her ceased; They felt by its beats her heart expand- That self-same instant, underneath, Gay he rode, with a friend as gay, Till he threw his head back-" Who is she?" "A bride the Riccardi brings home to-day." JO Hair in heaps lay heavily Over a pale brow spirit-pure Carved like the heart of the coal-black tree, Crisped like a war-steed's encolure— And lo, a blade for a knight's emprise He looked at her, as a lover can; Now, love so ordered for both their sakes, (For Via Larga is three parts light, But the palace overshadows one, Because of a crime which may God requite! To Florence and God the wrong was done, The Duke (with the statue's face in the square) Turned, in the midst of his multitude, At the bright approach of the bridal pair. |