His vilest victim with a death so dread;
Standing, as stands an engine on the track,
Perfectly built in all its mighty parts,
Its boiler and its furnace amply fed,
Yet powerless. But, let the flame of love
Touch but one splinter of the waiting pyre,
And all is changed. In gladsome bounds the blaze
Leaps on and on, till burning with one flame,
The fire warms the slumb'ring soul to life;
Warms till, as love directs, its living proves—