knock—more loud within me—     More awful still—its sound the dread heart gave! Gladly I welcome the cold arms that win me—     Fire, quench thy tortures in the icy grave! Francis—a God that pardons dwells in heaven—     Francis, the sinner—yes—she pardons thee—    So let my wrongs unto the earth be given Flame seize the wood!—it burns—it kindles—see! There—there his letters cast—behold are ashes—     His vows—the conquering fire consumes them here His kisses—see—see—all are only ashes—     All, all—the all that once on earth were dear! Trust not the roses which your youth enjoyeth, Sisters, to man's faith, changeful as the moon! Beauty to me brought guilt—its bloom destroyeth Lo, in the judgment court I curse the boon Tears in the headsman's gaze—what tears?—'tis spoken! Quick, bind mine eyes—all soon shall be forgot—    Doomsman—the lily hast thou never broken? Pale Doomsman—tremble not! 

          THE GREATNESS OF THE WORLD. Through the world which the Spirit creative and kind First formed out of chaos, I fly like the wind, Until on the strand Of its billows I land, My anchor cast forth where the breeze blows no more, And Creation's last boundary stands on the shore. I saw infant stars into being arise, For thousands of years to roll on through the skies; I saw them in play Seek their goal far away,—    For a moment my fugitive gaze wandered on,—    I looked round me, and lo!—all those bright stars had flown! Madly yearning to reach the dark kingdom of night. I boldly steer on with the speed of the light; All misty and drear The dim heavens appear, While embryo systems and seas at their source Are whirling around the sun-wanderer's course. When sudden a pilgrim I see drawing near Along the lone path,—"Stay! What seekest thou here?"         "My bark, tempest-tossed, I sail toward the land where the breeze blows no more, And Creation's last boundary stands on the shore."     "Stay, thou sailest in vain! 'Tis INFINITY yonder!"—    "'Tis INFINITY, too, where thou, pilgrim, wouldst wander! Eagle-thoughts that aspire, Let your proud pinions tire! For 'tis here that sweet phantasy, bold to the last, Her anchor in hopeless dejection must cast!" 

         FORTUNE AND WISDOM. Enraged against a quondam friend, To Wisdom once proud Fortune said    "I'll give thee treasures without end, If thou wilt be my friend instead."     "My choicest gifts to him I gave, And ever blest him with my smile; And yet he ceases not to crave, And calls me niggard all the while."     "Come, sister, let us 

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