Near. 
     So doth the ghostly foe our souls abuse,
     And all beyond his force he gains by ruse;
     He hates the purpose fast he cannot foil,—­
     Then he retreats—­retreats but to recoil! 
     In endless barricade obstruction piles,
     To-day ’tis tears impede, to-morrow—­smiles! 
     And this poor dream—­his coinage of the night
     Gives place to other lures, all falsely bright: 
     All tricks he knows and uses—­threats and prayers
     Attacks in parley—­as the Parthian dares. 
     In chain unheeded weakest link must fail,
     So fortress yet unwon he’ll mount and scale. 
     O break his bonds!  Let feeble woman weep! 
     The heart that God has touched ’tis God must keep! 
     Who looks behind to dally with his choice
     When Heaven demands—­obeys another voice!

     Poly. 
     Who loves thy Christ—­say, must he love no other?

     Near. 
     He may—­he must!  ’Tis Christ says, “Love thy brother,”
     Yet on the altar of the Heavenly King
     No rival place, no alien incense fling! 
     Through Him—­by Him—­for Him—­all goodness know! 
     ’Tis from the source alone each stream must flow. 
     To please Him, wife, and wealth, and rank, and state
     Must be forsaken—­strait the heavenly gate. 
     Poor silly sheep! afar you err and stray
     From Him who is The Life, The Truth, The Way! 
     My grief chokes utterance!  I see your fate,
     As round the fold the hungry wolves of hate
     Closer and fiercer rage:  from sword and flame
     One shelter for His flock—­one only Name! 
     The Cross alone our victor over fears,
     Not this thy strength,—­thy plea—­a woman’s tears!

     Poly. 
     I know thy heart!  It is mine own—­the tear
     My pity drops hath ne’er a taint of fear! 
     Who dreads not torture, yet—­to give relief
     To her he loves, perforce must ease her grief! 
     If Heaven should claim my life, my death, my all,
     Then Heaven will give the strength to heed the call. 
     The shepherd guides me surely to the fold,
     There, safe with Him, ’tis He will make me bold!

     Near. 
     Be bold!  O come!

     Poly. 
     Yes, let thy faith be mine! 
     There—­at his feet—­do I my life resign
     If but Pauline—­my love—­would give consent! 
     Else heaven were hell, and home but banishment!

     Near. 
     Come!—­to return.  Thrice welcome to her sight,
     To see thee safe will double her delight: 
     As the pierced cloud unveils a brighter sun,
     So is her joy enhanced—­thy glory won! 
     O come, they wait!

     Poly. 
     Appease her fear!  Ah, this
     Alone will give her rest—­her lover bliss. 
     She comes!

     Near. 
     Then fly!

     Poly. 
     I cannot!