’Tis through uncertainty that hope and fear invade.
But tear away that veil; where then are hope and fear?
’Tis veiledness lends interest to landscapes drear.
Upon a river’s bank a youth, who chanced to spy
A fisherman at work, guessed: “Solomon, surely![392]120
If he it be, why here, in secret and alone?
If not, whence come those features, fit to grace a throne?”
So he remained in doubt, ’twixt two opinions tossed,
Till Solomon recovered all the power he’d lost.
The foul usurping demon fled the royal state;