Page:A Tale of the Secret Tribunal.pdf/13

Heaven, that the penal doom defers;
Hath yet its thousand ministers,
To scourge the heart, unseen, unknown,
In shade, in silence, and alone,
Concentrating, in one brief hour,
Ages of retribution's power!

If thou wouldst know the lot of those,
Whose souls are dark with guilty woes,
Ah! seek them not where pleasure’s throng
Are listening to the voice of song;
Seek them not where the banquet glows,
And the red vineyard's nectar flows;
There mirth may flush the hollow cheek,
The eye of feverish joy may speak,
And smiles, the ready mask of pride,
The canker-worm within may hide:
Heed not those signs! they but delude;
Follow, and mark their solitude!

The song is hush'd, the feast is done,
And Lindheim's lord remains alone.
Alone, in silence and unrest,
With the dread secret of his breast;
Alone with anguish and with fear;
—There needs not an avenger here!
Behold him!—Why that sudden start?
Thou hear'st the beating of thy heart!
Thou hear'st the night-wind's hollow sigh,
Thou hear'st the rustling tapestry!
No sound but these may near thee be;
Sleep! all things earthly sleep—but thee.