Page:Songs of the Affections.pdf/174

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Of rainbow glory down through arch and aisle, Kindling old banners into haughty gleams, Flushing proud shrines, or by some warrior's tomb Dying away in clouds of gorgeous gloom:

Not for rich music, though in triumph pealing, Mighty as forest sounds when winds are high; Nor yet for torch, and cross, and stole, revealing Through incense-mists their sainted pageantry:— Though o'er the spirit each hath charm and power, Yet not for these I ask one lingering hour.

But by strong sympathies, whose silver cord Links me to mortal weal, my soul is bound; Thoughts of the human hearts, that here have pour'd   Their anguish forth, are with me and around;— I look back on the pangs, the burning tears, Known to these altars of a thousand years.

Send up a murmur from the dust, Remorse! That here hast bow'd with ashes on thy head;