Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/128

110 Strides into heaven behind the purple peak. Oh beautiful ! In the clear, rayless air, I see the chequered vale mapped far below, The sky-paved streams, the velvet pasture Hslopes, The grim, gray cloister whose deep vesper bell Blends at this height with tinkling, homebound herds ! I see — but oh, how far ! — the blessed town Where Liebhaid dwells. Oh that I were yon star That pricks the West's unbroken foil of gold, Bright as an eye, only to gaze on her ! How keen it sparkles o'er the Yenusburg ! When brown night falls and mists begin to live, Then will the phantom hunting-train emerge. Hounds straining, black fire - eyeballed, breathless steeds. Spurred by wild huntsmen, and unhallowed nymphs. And at their head the foam-begotten witch. Of soul-destroying beauty. Saints of heaven ! Preserve mine eyes from such unholy sight ! How all unlike the base desire which leads Misguided men to that infernal cave. Is the pure passion that exalts my soul Like a religion ! Yet Christ pardon me, If this be sin to thee !

Good even, father !