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They grubbed with a will: and at length, cor
Humanum, pectora cæca, and the rest ! They found—no gaud they were prying for,
No ring, no rose, but—who would have guessed ?A double Louis-d'or !
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.
And lo, when they came to the coffin-lid,
Or rotten planks which composed it once, Why, there lay the girl's skull wedged amid
A mint of money, it served for the nonce To hold in its hair-heaps hid !
Hid there? Why? Could the girl be wont
(She the stainless soul) to treasure up Money, earth’s trash and heaven's affront?
Had a spider found out the communion-cup, Was a toad in the christening-font?
XXII. Truth is truth : too true it was.
Gold! She hoarded and hugged it first, Longed for it, leaned o'er it, loved it-alas
Till the humour grew to a head and burst, And she cried, at the final pass,
“ 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 !"
Louis-d'ors, some six times five,
And duly double, every piece.
With parents preventing her soul's release
With friends' praise, gold-like, lingering still,
“Gold in heaven, if you will ; “ But I keep earth's too, I hope."
The parents, they eyed that price of sin
On the place to bury strangers in, The hideous Potter's Field.
" —You know the adage! Watch and pray!
1!" And the altar therewith was built.
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.
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, See reasons and reasons; this, to begin : 'T is the faith that launched point-blank her dart
At the head of a lie-taught Original Sin, The Corruption of Man's Heart.
THE STATUE AND THE BUST.
THERE 's a palace in Florence, the world knows well,
Ages ago, a lady there,
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,
Hair in heaps lay heavily
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,
To Florence and God the wrong was done,
The Duke (with the statue's face in the square)