Page:Stanzas on an Ancient Superstition (1864).djvu/10

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At morn, the sun first lit that mountain height;
 * There latest gleamed when dusky eve had come.

Thither went forth the crowd; some, in affright,
 * With loud lament for life implored, and some
 * In sorrow mute—but none durst wait their doom,

Durst wait, alone, the midnight shrieks tohear
 * Re-echoed back to each deserted home.

Ah! tho’ no hand could help, nor voice could cheer, The fainting spirit craved some kindly presence near.

Yet had their cries of grief tumultuous been,
 * But pipes and blaring gongs in concert blent

Still urged them on, as, marching o’er the plain
 * And up the mount, their toiling steps they bent;
 * To gain ere night should cloud the steep ascent,

A terrace award, the rugged rocks among;
 * There, while the day a glimmering radiance lent,

Midway they paused; what time the priestly throng To the departing sun charted their farewell song.


 * Whither from shrines and temples, in thy flight
 * Bearest thou the brilliant day;

Swiftly on with flaming wheels for ever far away?
 * Hasting in vengeful wrath

To waste thy glories where no hearts adore;
 * Thro’ lurid shades borne on thy path

Beyond the earth, and sea, and sky, unworshipped evermore!
 * Lo! here the clouds all night

Keep watch to announce, with gorgeous hues, the birth
 * Of joyous morn, whose golden light

Awakes the waves to greet thy beams with dance and boisterous mirth.