Page:Stanzas on an Ancient Superstition (1864).djvu/11

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 * Bathed in thy warmth, their fragrant incense yield;
 * Here twittering birds in blooming bowers,

And rippling rills, the wooing breeze, and every teeming field,
 * Their daily homage bring
 * To thy life-giving beams—while blithely sing
 * Youths and maids with kindling eye

In thrilling melodies of love beneath the radiant sky.
 * When comes the lowering night,

They droop, and sleep, and dream of thy fair light;
 * If now that light no more be shed,

All hushed and motionless they are—and dark and cold and dead!


 * To whelm each feeble ray before it dies;
 * The purpled clouds seem filled with blood,

And hoarsely rolls beneath thy car the ocean’s crimson flood,
 * O! God of light, for thee

Behold our hands with sacred stains imbued!
 * See—from night’s prison-caves set free,

Dread monsters flit, and dismal Fear, and all her horrid brood,
 * On shadowy wings are borne!

Send forth—O send athwart the darkening heaven
 * One glittering ray in token given,

That thou wilt still in triumph come, bringing the beauteous morn!