To her the Fiend, well hoping now success,
"This is thy thread! observe how short the span,
And see how copious yonder Genius pours
The bitter stream of woe." The Maiden saw
Fearless. "Now gaze!" the tempter Fiend exclaim'd,
And placed again the poniard in her hand,
For SUPERSTITION, with sulphureal torch
Stalk'd to the loom. "This, Damsel, is thy fate!
The hour draws on--now drench the dagger deep!
Now rush to happier worlds!"
The Maid replied,
"Or to prevent or change the will of Heaven,
Impious I strive not: be that will perform'd!"
[Footnote 1:
May fays of Serapis,
Erudit at placide humanam per somnia mentem,
Nocturnaque quiete docet; nulloque labore
Hic tantum parta est pretiosa scientia, nullo
Excutitur studio verum. Mortalia corda
Tunc Deus iste docet, cum sunt minus apta doceri,
Cum nullum obsequium praestant, meritisque fatentur
Nil sese debere suis; tunc recta scientes
Cum nil scire valent. Non illo tempore sensus
Humanos forsan dignatur numen inire,
Cum propriis possunt per se discursibus uti,
Ne forte humana ratio divina coiret.
'Sup Lucani'.]
[Footnote 2: I have met with a singular tale to illustrate this
spiritual theory of dreams.
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