Quick and keen his glances darted,
Like a strong man's arrow flying;
And the people tried to shun him,
To avoid the ways he haunted;
And they trembled sadly, sorely,
If he ever ventured near them.
Yet beneath his hardened manner
Dwelt a gentle spirit calmly;
It was only to the wicked,
To the evil and the sinful,
That his terror was revealed.
Sero from the hands of Weemus
Took the people rudely, boldly,
As directed by the spirit
Which for ever ruled his actions.
Old, and young, and middle-aged,
Heedless of their years he took them,
Heedless of their power or greatness,
Heedless of their worth or beauty,
Or of want or low attainments;
Pious-minded, vain, and sinful,
Fell alike to be removed.
There were some who longed his coming
To relieve them of their burden,
And admit them to the bright realms
Which he watched, and kept, and guarded,
There to rest in peace and tranquil,
Sheltered from the wars and tumults,
From the storms, and fears, and terrors
Which were ever raging freely
Throughout all the lands of Weemus.
They had seen in feeble vision--
Seen a ray of future glory,
Of the sweet and happy pleasures
In this kingdom Sero guarded;
Longed and panted for admission,
Toiled and labored for a passport,
Fought and battled for a title
To this realm where trouble is not,
Till they had become the victors,
And were waiting now to enter.
Throughout all Nimaera's kingdom
Warning heralds Sero sent out
To implore the heedless people,
Raising thus their warning voices:
"Turn, ye people, turn from evil,
Know ye that the day is nearing
For the long and weary journey
Through dark valleys and wild passes
To the lands of the hereafter.
Be ye ready for departure,
Robed and girded for the journey;
For our guide, the princely Sero,
Cometh; he is soon before you.
If you are not waiting ready,
He will not delay the journey,
But will in the darkness leave you,
Which ye cannot wander out of,
From its terrors or its dangers,
Till it take you to destruction,
To an everlasting torment."
Thus the warning heralds wandered,
Oft complaining, oft imploring
Unto all the erring people,
Unto all the slothful numbers;
But they were so bound in pleasures,
Were in sin and lust so tangled,
That they heeded not the warning--
The kind words of warning spoken;
Which were lost and vainly wasted,
Were as mists upon a bulwark,
Bearing with them no impression,
Save unto a sorry number--
But a few who heard and listened,
And