Ne'er shall possess wherewith to feed
The direful flame, nor weight of sin
To sink him in th' infernal mire;
Nor will he come to that dread realm
Where Wrong and Retribution meet.
But, woe to that poor, worthless wight
Who lives a bitter, stagnant life,
Who follows after every ill
And knows not either Faith or Love,
(For Faith in deeds alone doth live).
Eternal woe shall be his doom -
More torments he shall then behold
Yea, in the twinkling of an eye
Than any age can e'er conceive.




THE VISIONS OF THE SLEEPING BARD




I.--VISION OF THE WORLD.



On {1a} the fine evening of a warm and mellow summer I betook me up one
of the mountains of Wales, {1b} spy-glass in hand, to enable my feeble
sight to see the distant near, and to make the little to loom large.