Taking the shape and image of thy thought?
Heed not these idle tongues, that launch their doubts
In erring love against thy watchful care.
That which thou doest I accept with joy;
I wait for thee as waits a full-sail'd bark
The coming breeze to waft it o'er the sea.

ORAN.

Fear not! I do well think no peril lies
Within this power, but virtue of rare worth,
Else nevermore its wand had waved o'er thee.--
Tell me, dost bring no memory back to Earth
Of all these glorious wanderings above?
No certain visions of the hidden things
Thou seest in that far mystic spirit-land?

MABEL.

Nay! it must be as thou dost tell me oft,
The soul doth lose its secrets at Earth's gate,
And all the blinding glories it hath known
Shed but their mystic influence over life.
Therefore, it may be, 'tis I nought retain
Of that which passeth in these hours of trance.

ORAN.

Yet strive once more to grasp the fleeting dreams,
Else shall I doubt that which I fondly hope.--