Sec. Do but you think too,
And all is saved! I only have to write,
"The man seemed false awhile, proves true at last;
Bury it"—so I write the Signory—
"Bury this trial in your breast forever,
Blot it from things or done or dreamed about!
So Luria shall receive his meed to-day
With no suspicion what reverse was near,—
As if no meteoric finger hushed
The doom-word just on the destroyer's lip,