Part 13 (2/2)

Weak Love grows strong thy smile beneath: But nothing comes from nothing; none Can reap Love's harvest out of Death.

{84}

_Babylon._

II.

The watchman watched along the walls: And lo! an hour or more ere light Loud rang his trumpet. From their halls The revellers rushed into the night.

There hung a terror on the air; There moved a terror under ground;-- The hostile hosts, heard everywhere, Within, without--were nowhere found.

”The Christians to the lions! Ho!”-- Alas! self-tortured crowds, let be!

Let go your wrath; your fears let go: Ye gnaw the net, but cannot flee.

Ye drank from out Orestes' cup; Orestes' Furies drave ye wild.

Who conquers from on high? Look up!

A Woman, holding forth a Child!

{85}

III.

The golden rains are dashed against Those verdant walls of lime and beech With which our happy vale is fenced Against the north; yet cannot reach

The stems that lift yon leafy crest High up above their dripping screen: The chestnut fans are downward pressed On banks of bluebell hid in green.

White vapours float along the glen, Or rise from every sunny brake;-- A pause amid the gusts--again The warm shower sings across the lake.

Sing on, all-cordial showers, and bathe The deepest root of loftiest pine!

The cowslip dimmed, the ”primrose rathe”

Refresh; and drench in nectarous wine

Yon fruit-tree copse, all blossomed o'er With forest-foam and crimson snow-- Behold! above it bursts once more The world-embracing, heavenly bow!

{86}

_Sedes Sapientiae._

IV.

O that the wordy war might cease!

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