To me the hypocrite came: "Trust me, I pray thee, this once.Honest is now my intent,--with grateful thanks I acknowledge
Gods for themselves to makeBut they're more hideous ever
And presently was dead.The hour her soul its farewell took,The boy was sad, with terror shook,
For now they leave my door--'Tis better than before!
Soften this fierce-raging flame, wildly pervading my breast!Yet how I long to feel them again, those rapturous torments.
And the day grew bright and brighter ever;And I heard my neighbour's door unbolted,As he went to earn his daily wages,And ere long I heard the waggons rumbling,And the city gates were also open'd,While the market-place, in ev'ry corner,Teem'd with life and bustle and confusion.
ONE day a shameless and impudent wightWent into a shop full of steel wares bright,Arranged with art upon ev'ry shelf.He fancied they were all meant for himself;And so, while the patient owner stood by,The shining goods needs must handle and try,And valued,--for how should a fool better know?--The bad things high, and the good ones low,And all with an easy self-satisfied face;Then, having bought nothing, he left the place.
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