Part 7 (2/2)

Rejoice! He goes, the Paraclete To send! Rejoice! He reigns on high!

The sword lies broken at thy feet-- His triumph is thy victory!

{43}

_Ascensio Domini._

III.

I take this reed--I know the hand That wields it must ere long be dust-- And write, upon the fleeting sand Each wind can shake, the words, ”I trust.”

And if that sand one day was stone And stood in courses near the sky, For towers by earthquake overthrown, Or mouldering piecemeal, what care I?

Things earthly perish: life to death And death to life in turn succeeds.

The spirit never perisheth: The chrysalis its Psyche breeds.

True life alone is that which soars To Him who triumphed o'er the grave: With Him, on life's eternal sh.o.r.es, I trust one day a part to have.

Ah, hark! above the springing corn That chime; in every breeze it swells!

Ye bells that wake the Ascension morn, Ye give us back our Paschal bells!

{44}

_Elias._

IV.

O thou that rodest up the skies, Thy task fulfilled, on steeds of fire,-- That somewhere, sealed from mortal eyes, Some air immortal dost respire!

Thou that in heavenly beams enshrined, In quiet lulled of soul and flesh, With one great thought of G.o.d thy mind Dost everlastingly refres.h.!.+

Where art thou? age succeeds to age; Thou dost not hear their fret and jar: With thy celestial hermitage Successive winters wage not war.

Still as a corse with field-flowers strewn Thou liest; on G.o.d thine eyes are bent: And the fire-breathing stars alone Look in upon thy cloudy tent.

Behold, there is a debt to pay!

Like Enoch, hid thou art on high: But both shall back return one day, To gaze once more on earth, and die.

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