Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/318

 Higher, and higher soar, and soaring sing Loud songs of Triumph! O ye spirits of God, Hover around my mortal agonies!" She spake, and instantly faint melody Melts on her ear, soothing and sad, and slow, Such measures, as at calmest midnight heard By aged Hermit in his holy dream, Foretell and solace death; and now they rise Louder, as when with harp and mingled voice The white-robed multitude of slaughter'd saints At Heaven's wide-open'd portals gratulant Receive some martyr'd Patriot. The harmony Entranced the Maid, till each suspended sense Brief slumber seized, and confused extacy.


 * At length awakening slow, she gazed around:

And thro' a Mist, the relict of that trance, Still thinning as she gaz'd, an Isle appear'd, Its high, o'er-hanging, white, broad-breasted cliffs Glass'd on the subject ocean. A vast plain Stretch'd opposite, where ever and anon