The book of gold, and other poems . ap ? he cried. Id sooner seek an air-hole in the iceAnd drown myself! he vowed—and took the , with a smile so quaint it well might moveAnothers tears: Who knows but this may proveThe nucleus of a fortune? Thanks! he said,Flung the black cape once more above his head,And went his way. In dark and silent mood,Aside, meanwhile, the second stranger stood:A tall fair youth, but anxious-eyed and wan;Brows nobly arched, but all their freshness gone,Withered and parched by fires that raged within—The hidden fires of suffering and of sin. Why he had entered
The book of gold, and other poems . ap ? he cried. Id sooner seek an air-hole in the iceAnd drown myself! he vowed—and took the , with a smile so quaint it well might moveAnothers tears: Who knows but this may proveThe nucleus of a fortune? Thanks! he said,Flung the black cape once more above his head,And went his way. In dark and silent mood,Aside, meanwhile, the second stranger stood:A tall fair youth, but anxious-eyed and wan;Brows nobly arched, but all their freshness gone,Withered and parched by fires that raged within—The hidden fires of suffering and of sin. Why he had entered there I scarce can tell. He neither came to purchase nor to sell; But, as a hunted wretch, in desperate strait, Remorse and terror knocking at his gate, Seeks any corner, Maurice Allanburn, Harassed, beset, not knowing where to turn, Had paused at Richards door. If all were told, Perhaps he would have clutched the old mans gold. For Allanburn, a pious widows son, Affianced, loved, even to the verge had run THE BOOK OF GOLD, 17. W - OVER THE COUNTER, SPECTACLES ON NOSE, OLD RICHARD STOOPED. A secret course of ruinous excess,Till he was ready, in his dire distress,To fling himself on any frantic deed,—To mount unbridled violence as a steed,And leap the abyss, or perish utterly. 2 18 TUE BOOK OF GOLD. Dishonor I will never live to see : When all has failed, then this! he said, and pressed A hidden vial sewed into his vest. The swift news of my death shall overtake The rumor of disgrace, and kindly break Their poor hearts first. What hope is there? SuspectedAlready by the house he serves; detected,He fears, and tracked by spies this night; the endIs menacingly nigh. And now the friend,With whose forged name he has been forced to borrowSome thousands in his absence, comes , only gold, much gold, this very night,Or ignominious and precipitate flight—Naught else can save him ; and he will not fly. Theres none so wretched, so ensnared, as I! So Maurice stood and
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