Page:The white doe of Rylstone - or, The fate of the Nortons. A poem (IA whitedoeofrylsto00wordrich).pdf/145

 Power which the viewless Spirit shed By whom we were first visited; Whose voice we heard, whose hand and wings Swept like a breeze the conscious strings, When, left in solitude, erewhile We stood before this ruined Pile, And, quitting unsubstantial dreams, Sang in this Presence kindred themes; Distress and desolation spread Through human hearts, and pleasure dead,— Dead—but to live again on Earth, A second and yet nobler birth; Dire overthrow, and yet how high The re-ascent in sanctity! From fair to fairer; day by day A more divine and loftier way! Even such this blessed Pilgrim trod, By sorrow lifted tow’rds her God; Uplifted to the purest sky Of undisturbed mortality.