Our slow thought does its work, and all's reknown.
Oh noble Luria! What you have decreed
I see not, but no animal revenge.
No brute-like punishment of bad by worse—
It cannot be, the gross and vulgar way
Traced for me by convention and mistake,
Has gained that calm approving eye and brow!
Spare Florence, after all! Let Luria trust
To his own soul, he whom I trust with mine!
Lur. In time!