Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/123

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67
POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË


'Those who follow earthly pleasure,
 Heavenly knowledge will not lead;
Wisdom hides from them her treasure,
 Virtue bids them evil-speed!


'Vainly may their hearts repenting,
 Seek for aid in future years;
Wisdom, scorned, knows no relenting;
 Virtue is not won by fears.'


Thus spake the ice-blooded elder gray;
The young man scoffed as he turned away,
Turned to the call of a sweet lute's measure,
Waked by the lightsome touch of pleasure:
Had he ne'er met a gentler teacher,
Woe had been wrought by that pitiless preacher.