12 
POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Stood Hamuel near tlie pile, him savage joy 
Led thitherward, but now within his heart 
Unwonted feelings stirr’d, and the first pangs 
Of wakening guilt, anticipating Hell. 
The eye of Zillah as it glanced around 
Fell on the murderer once, but not in wrath; 
And therefore like a dagger it had fallen, 
Had struck into his soul a cureless wound. 
Conscience! thou God within us! not in the hour 
Of triumph, dost thou spare the guilty wretch, 
Not in the hour of infamy and death 
Forsake the virtuous ! they draw near the stake— 
And lo! the torch! hold, hold your erring hands! 
Yet quench the rising flames!—they rise! they spread! 
They reach the suffering Maid! oh God protect 
The innocent one! 
They rose, they spread, they raged— 
The breath of God went forth; the ascending fire 
Beneath its influence bent, and all its flames 
In one long lightning flash collecting fierce, 
Darted and blasted Hamuel—him alone. 
Hark—what a fearful scream the multitude 
Pour forth!—and yet more miracles! the stake 
Buds out, and spreads its light green leaves and bowers 
The innocent Maid, and roses bloom around, 
Now first beheld since Paradise was lost, 
And fill with Eden odours all the air. 
Southey. 
