_From the Italian of Ternare_
"Say, who art thou, with more than mortal air,
Endowed by Heaven with gifts and graces rare,
Whom restless, winged feet for ever onward bear?"--
"I am Occasion--known to few, at best;
And since one foot upon a wheel I rest,
Constant my movements are--they cannot be repressed.
"Not the swift eagle in his swiftest flight
Can equal me in speed. My wings are bright;
And man, who sees them waved, is dazzled by the sight.
"My thick and flowing locks, before me thrown,
Conceal my form--nor face, nor breast is shown,
That thus, as I approach, my coming be not known.
"Behind my head, no single lock of hair
Invites the hand, that fain would it grasp there;
But he, who lets me pass, to seize me may despair."
"Whom, then, so close behind thee do I see?"--
"Her name is Penitence; and Heaven's decree
Hath made all those her prey, who profit not by me.
"And thou, O mortal, who dost vainly ply
These curious questions, thou dost not descry,
That now thy time is lost--for I am passing by."