"Remember us too! in what danger are we!
Have lured him from here.
Rather too unbending!Johnny, tell me what you think!
Thus wreath'd with bows, with hues thus grac'd,
Chorus of Spirits
With graces so rife,
THE mirror tells me, I am fair!
While he thus lives, in secret bless'd,Above him in the clouds doth restAn oak-wreath, verdant and sublime,Placed on his brow in after-time;While they are banish'd to the slough,Who their great master disavow.
My bed has no trestles,
The buried pound no more I'll hide from sight.Why did I seek the road so anxiously,If hidden from my brethren 'twere to be?"
LOVE is indeed a glorious prize!What fairer guerdon meets our eyes?--Though neither wealth nor power are thine,A very hero thou dost shine.As of the prophet, they will tell,Wamik and Asia's tale as well.--They'll tell not of them,--they'll but giveTheir names, which now are all that live.The deeds they did, the toils they provedNo mortal knows! But that they lovedThis know we. Here's the story trueOf Wamik and of Asia too.