THE wine-flushed monarch slept -- but in his ear An angel breathed -- "Repent; or choose the flame Quenchless." In dread he woke, but not in shame, Deep musing -- "Sin I love, yet Hell I fear." Wherefore he left his feasts, and minions dear, And justly ruled, and died a saint in name. But when his hasting spirit heavenward came A stern Voice cried -- "Oh Soul! what dost thou here?" "Love I forswore, and wine, and kept my vow To live a just and joyless life, and now I crave reward." The Voice came like a knell -- "Fool! dost thou hope to find again thy mirth, And those foul joys thou didst renounce on earth? Yea, enter in! My Heaven shall be thy Hell!" |