The same
In which the mother of thy race was lost,
With e'en a wiser, mightier guide than I.
She thirsted, too, for knowledge, and she gave
Her innocence--her home in Paradise--
The happiness of him--who shared her lot--
To know--what? That her wn rebellious hand
Had raised the flood-gates of a sea of crime,
Which would for ever pour its bitter waves
Upon the helpless unprotected race,
Which her rash deed had ruined.
Think of the sighs--the groans--the floods of tears--
The woes--too deep for these--which have no end,
Save but in heart-breaks! Think upon the toil--
The sweat--the pain--the strife--the crime--the blood--
The myriads of souls with which this one
Sad lesson was obtained! whose price is yet
Not fully paid, nor shall be so, until
The last poor son of earth mingles with dust!
Dost thou not fear to tread a path like this?

Werner.

I have no fear;
It is so long since I have felt its thrill
That 'twere a pleasure now to feel it.

Spirit.

What wouldst thou know?