Some noble charity for coming time
Was idly wasted--pearls dissolved in wine--

* * * * *

Still on my theme I hung and pointed out,
Full eagerly, how Mephistopheles
Ordered the gimlet wherewith it was drawn:

* * * * *

But he who went his way that summer night,
Beneath the shadow of those stately trees
Comes back to me--to earth--ah! nevermore.

* * * * *

He fell obscurely in the common ranks--
His keen sword rusted in its splendid sheath.
God pardon him his faults! for faults he had;
But oh! so blent with goodness, that the while
The lip of every theory of his
Curved with a sneer, each action smiled
With Christian charity.

Like Manfred he had summoned to his aid
Forbidden ministers--but unlike his--
Of the earth, earthy, which did slowly clutch
Upon his lofty faculties until
They summoned him from the lone tow'r of thought