The Legend of St. Loy With Other Poems. By John Abraham Heraud |
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The Legend of St. Loy | ||
IX.
Now hath he knelt in pietyBefore the simple Shrine;
And on the Cross hath fixed his eye,
To lift his thoughts to God on high,
Whose precious blood divine
Upon that wood was poured and spilt,
To cleanse mankind from leperous guilt,
And rescue them from Death:
Now, kneels that younger Hermit there;
His spirit thrills with grateful fear,
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Upon the wings of Faith.
That Cross stood on a human Scull;—
Emblem of Earth and Heaven!
It was a moral, never dull,
As in a vision given—
Behold, fond Man! the mystic sign—
Be tutor'd from that simple Shrine,
How frail, how vain, thy hopes below!
The sage, the gay, the high, the low,
Must from their wealth, their bliss, their woe,
Their birth, their beauty, part.—
The foeman's hate will 'vail no more,
And those, who honored thee before,
Who treasured thee in their heart's core,
Thine altered form will not endure,
But thence with horror start.
The Legend of St. Loy | ||