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Rh And as we strain across the blinding storm

Of many ages; only semitones

Half broken, half resounding, echo yet,

Heard by a few who love the former time,

And dim remembrance of the far-off years.

Now peace awhile, the night is drawing near;

Peace, and let silence fall

Upon the temple, peace and solemn fear.

HE night has come, a cloud of darkness falls

Upon the temple, save a lonely torch

Lighting at intervals the silent throng,

Who still are waiting there until the time

When all its glories shall be seen by them;

And still a silence...

The heart is sick with waiting, half afraid

And half expectant, is not yet the time?

But ever silence...

Hark the trumpet sounds!

Upon the steps the holy herald stands,

And bids the worshippers prepare to see

The glory of the goddess.