the wicket passed it To the pit of Long Damnation. What is now this pompous woman, And her great imagination? These have vanished like a shadow, As a myth or phantom figure; And that body, once so lusty, Is a mouldering lump of matter, Corruptible, and vile, and filthy.

p. 49

p. 50

p. 51

p. 52

III.

In a miserable dwelling Sat a miserable old man Mid a heap of hoarded treasures, Buried in the walls and burrows; And it was his constant idol, And his brain was ever scheming How he might augment the numbers. Oft he turned the treasure over, Counting fondly and recounting; And he joyed to hear the jingle Of the yellow coins he counted. p. 53Threescore years had been devoted, Scraping of this gain together. He had fed on scanty portion, Grudging sorely every morsel; And had clothed himself in raiments Which a beggar scarce would stand in. He had never fed the hungry, And had never clothed the naked, That he might increase his riches. Sero in this hovel saw him Bending o’er his golden treasures; And he laughed derisive laughter, And sarcastic was his manner, As his servants he commanded To the miser’s presence, saying, “Lo! our princely Sero wisteth Whence are all these hoarded riches,— If in scruple they were gathered. If ye long to take them with you When you leave this land of Weemus For the lands of the hereafter; If ye think to buy a passport To the land of Blisses with them, Ye are sadly much mistaken. This we deem as dross and worthless. Ye can never enter thereto p. 54Bearing such a burden with you. Ye must feed the hungry with it, And must clothe the naked wanderer, And employ it as a talent To be used for wiser purpose Than to hoard in walls and burrows, If ye long to be admitted To the tranquil land of Blisses.” But the old man would not listen To the words of wisdom spoken; He was so engrossed in counting, And in adding to his riches. So the servant raised his weapon, Sorely therewith smote the miser,— With destruction did he smite him,— That he fell a lifeless clay-heap Down among the hoarded moneys; And his spirit was removéd Unto Sero, and he opened Wide the wicket on his left hand, And it passed into the darkness, To the pit of gloom and terrors. Then the door was rudely opened Of this miserable dwelling By the people claiming kinship; And they scrambled for the riches, p. 55And in many 

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