THE VISION.
123
"What in your world is lost, is treasured here."
They enter; round upon the floor are strewn
The ivory sceptre, and the glittering crown;
Unnumbered hopes there fluttered on the wing,
There were the lays discarded lovers sing;
There Fame her trumpet blew, long, loud, and clear;
Worlds tremble as the deafening notes they hear;
There brooded riches o'er his lifeless heap;
There were the tears which misery's children weep;
There were posthumous alms, and misspent time
Lost in a jingling mass of foolish rhyme.
There was the conscience of the miser; there
The tears of love,—the pity of the fair;
There, pointing, cried the sylph-like smiling boy,
There's the content which fled you, Oleroy!
Regain it if you can; then far away,
And reach your world before the dawn of day.
They enter; round upon the floor are strewn
The ivory sceptre, and the glittering crown;
Unnumbered hopes there fluttered on the wing,
There were the lays discarded lovers sing;
There Fame her trumpet blew, long, loud, and clear;
Worlds tremble as the deafening notes they hear;
There brooded riches o'er his lifeless heap;
There were the tears which misery's children weep;
There were posthumous alms, and misspent time
Lost in a jingling mass of foolish rhyme.
There was the conscience of the miser; there
The tears of love,—the pity of the fair;
There, pointing, cried the sylph-like smiling boy,
There's the content which fled you, Oleroy!
Regain it if you can; then far away,
And reach your world before the dawn of day.
