onflict.
Many, who received a portion,
Went and squandered to his ruin
All he had in lust and gambling,
Till his life was sorely broken.
When his riches had been pillaged,
Then the body of the miser
Was removed quick and coldly,
Lowered in the grave and covered;
But of they who followed with it,
No one wept a tear of sorrow,
No one mourned for his departure;
But they gave attendance only,--
That, stern duty had commanded.
Thus the end was of the old man,
Of the miserable miser.

IV.

In a wilderness of houses
In the heart of a great city,
Full of riches, full of plenty,
And of people high and prosperous,
Of its ancient greatness boasting,
And its modern princely splendors;
In a loathsome and a dark street,
Foulsome odors rising from it,
Rife and pregnant with diseases,
Stood a hovel, foul and filthy;
Lay a being, wane and wasted,
On a straw heap in a corner;
Scarce a rag to hide her person,
Lice and vermin creeping on her;
And beside her stood distraction,
Woe, and want, and piercing hunger;
And her look was wild and vacant,
Like a spectre's, wandering madly.
When the night came, it was laden
Much with gloomy fear and sadness,
And a trembling apprehension
That the dawn would not approach her;
And the morning was attended
With but little hope or succour.
Charity, in cold attendance,
Came with many words and wishes;
And, in fair and full pretending,
Stood, and pitied, and regretted;
But it gave a meagre pittance
Or of comfort or appeasing,
To withdraw the pangs of hunger,
Or relieve her sunken spirit.
But good Sero saw in pity.
He beheld her calm endurance
Of the anguish bearing on her;
And he sent and took her spirit--
Took it gently from the ruin,
From the filth and the pollution;
And he opened wide the wicket
By his right hand, and conveyed it
From the misery and anguish
To the happy land of Blisses,
To the land of peace and plenty.

With the burden of my stories
I shall not detain you further,
Lest ye weary to pursue them
Through the dreary way they lead you.
Let me further only mention,
Sero's servants were engaged
Ever seeking and conveying
Subjects from the hands of Weemus
To the watch-ward of their chieftain.
Mute and mystic were their movements;
Softly, and without observance,
Passed they to the secret chamber,--
Took from thence the hidden subject;
From the lover's fond embraces
Tore away his dearest treasure--
She, to whom his life was wedded,
Was for ever