Page:Zóphiël; or, The Bride of Seven.djvu/20

'Twas then there lived a captive Hebrew pair;
In woe the embraces of their youth had past;
And blest their paler years one daughter; fair
She flourished, like a lonely rose, the last

And loveliest of her line. The tear of joy,
The early love of song, the sigh that broke
From her young lip, the best beloved employ;
What womanhood disclosed, in infancy bespoke

A child of passion: tenderest and best
Of all that heart has inly loved and felt,
Adorned the fair enclosure of her breast:
Where passion is not found, no virtue ever dwelt.

Yet, not, perverted, would my words imply
The impulse given by Heaven's great Artisan
Alike to man and worm, mere spring, whereby
The distant wheels of life, while time endures, roll on:

But the collective attributes that fill,
About the soul, their all-important place;
That feed her fires, empower her fainting will,
And write the God on feeble mortal's face.