I6 
THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. 
 
Let us lie on the moss by the spring, let us share 
In their silence serene, the languor rare ! 
For oh !  my lover, I never did see 
So goodly a company. 
 
HERACLITUS 
 
Wait but a moment — stand apart, 
Revolving the light in thine innermost heart ! 
Content not the soul with the skin of the grape ! — 
But the truer sense than the eye and the ear 
Make to appear ! 
 
CHRYSIPPUS 
 
Verily, master, I obey. 
I travel the exalted way. 
I pierce the sense ;  I gain the goal, 
Distill the essence of the soul — 
 
HERACLEITUS 
 
I shroud thee in the web of wool. 
I lift the burden of the bull. 
Lion and eagle !  dart ye forth 
Into the cold clime of the North,