18 FABLES OF FLORA. 
I see him still 1 Dost thou not see 
The haggard eyeballs’ hollow glare ? 
And gleams of wild ferocity 
Dart through the sable shade of hair? 
What meagre form behind him moves, 
With eye that rues the invading day; 
And wrinkled aspect wan, that proves 
The mind to pale remorse a prey ? 
That wretched — Hark! — the voice replies, 
‘ Boy, bear these idle honors hence! 
For here a guilty hermit lies, 
Untrue to Nature, Virtue, Sense. 
‘ Though Nature lent him powers, to aid 
The moral cause, the mutual weal; 
Those powers he sunk in this dim shade, 
The desperate suicide of zeal. 
1 Go, teach the drone of saintly haunts, 
Whose cell’s the sepulchre of time, 
Though many a holy hymn he chants, 
His life is one continued crime. 
‘ And bear them hence, the plant, the flower, 
No symbols those of systems vain! 
They have the duties of their hour, 
Some bird, some insect to sustain. 
Be. Lakoiioehe. 
