lled with Roman coin
And Eastern gems of cost uncountable.
Great are the dangers of the rocky road,
False as a serpent is the purple sea,
And he who carries wealth in foreign lands
Carries his death, too often, near his heart,
And finds life's poison where he hoped to find
Against its pains a pleasant antidote.
I pray you, keep for me these gems in trust,
And give them to me when I come again."

Spiridion listened with a friendly smile,
And answered thus the dark-browed Syrian:
"Here is a better guardian of gold,--
My daughter, sir. The people of the coast
Are wont to say that, if she broke her faith,
Silver and gold themselves would lose their shine.
She is our island's trusty treasurer."
"Then," said the Syrian, "she shall be mine
As well as theirs,"--and saying this he gave
The casket with the jewels to her hand.

Right earnestly the lady answered him,
As one who slowly turns some curious thought:
"Sir, you have called this treasure _life and death_,
Which in your Eastern lore, as I have read,
Is the symbolic phrase of Deity,
And the most potent phrase to sway the world.
With life to death I'll guard the gems for you,
And dead or living give them back again."

Now while the merchant went to distant Rome
The fair Irene died a sudden death,
And all the land went mourning for the maid,
And on the roads and in the palaces
Was one long wail for her by night and day.
While thus they grieved, the Syrian came again,
And, after fit delay, in proper time
Went to the father, to Spiridion,
Condoling with him on his daughter's death
In many a sad and gentle Eastern phrase,
Deep tinctured with a strange philosophy.

Now when they had awhile consumed their grief
Outspoke the Bishop: "Syrian, it is well
If this sad death be not more sad for us,
And most especially more sad for thee,
Than thou hast dreamed of." Here he checked his speech,
And then, as if in utter agony,
Burst forth with--"She is gone! and all thy store,
It too is gone: she only upon earth
Knew where 't was hidden,--and she trusted none.
O God, be merciful! What shall I do?"

Then on him gravely looked the Syrian
With grand, calm mien, as almost pitying,
And said: "O father, can this be thy _faith_?
Man of the West, how little didst thou know