XVIII.

“Doth the vain heart love glory that is none,
  And the poor excellence of vain attire? 
Oh go, and drown your eyes against the sun,
  The visible ruler of the starry quire,
Till boiling gold in giddy eddies run,
  Dazzling the brain with orbs of living fire;
And the faint soul down-darkens into night,
And dies a burning martyrdom to light.”

XIX.

Oh go, and gaze,—­when the low winds of ev’n
  Breathe hymns, and Nature’s many forests nod
Their gold-crown’d heads; and the rich blooms of heav’n
  Sun-ripen’d give their blushes up to God;
And mountain-rocks and cloudy steeps are riv’n
  By founts of fire, as smitten by the rod
Of heavenly Moses,—­that your thirsty sense
May quench its longings of magnificence!

XX.

“Yet suns shall perish—­stars shall fade away—­
  Day into darkness—­darkness into death—­
Death into silence; the warm light of day,
  The blooms of summer, the rich glowing breath
Of even—­all shall wither and decay,
  Like the frail furniture of dreams beneath
The touch of morn—­or bubbles of rich dyes
That break and vanish in the aching eyes.”

XXI.

They hear, soul-blushing, and repentant shed
  Unwholesome thoughts in wholesome tears, and pour
Their sin to earth,—­and with low drooping head
  Receive the solemn blessing, and implore
Its grace—­then soberly with chasten’d tread,
  They meekly press towards the gusty door
With humbled eyes that go to graze upon
The lowly grass—­like him of Babylon.

XXII.

The lowly grass!—­O water-constant mind! 
  Fast-ebbing holiness!—­soon-fading grace
Of serious thought, as if the gushing wind
  Through the low porch had wash’d it from the face
For ever!—­How they lift their eyes to find
  Old vanities!—­Pride wins the very place
Of meekness, like a bird, and flutters now
With idle wings on the curl-conscious brow!

XXIII.

And lo! with eager looks they seek the way
  Of old temptation at the lowly gate;
To feast on feathers, and on vain array,
  And painted cheeks, and the rich glistering state
Of jewel-sprinkled locks,—­But where are they,
  The graceless haughty ones that used to wait
With lofty neck, and nods, and stiffen’d eye?—­
None challenge the old homage bending by.

XXIV.

In vain they look for the ungracious bloom
  Of rich apparel where it glow’d before,—­
For Vanity has faded all to gloom,
  And lofty Pride has stiffen’d to the core,
For impious Life to tremble at its doom,—­
  Set for a warning token evermore,
Whereon, as now, the giddy and the wise
Shall gaze with lifted hands and wond’ring eyes.