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THE FOREST SANCTUARY.


LXX.

What heard I then?—a ringing shriek of pain,
Such as for ever haunts the tortur'd ear?
—I heard a sweet and solemn-breathing strain
Piercing the flames, untremulous and clear!
—The rich, triumphal tones!—I knew them well.
As they came floating with a breezy swell!
Man's voice was there—a clarion voice to cheer
In the mid-battle—ay, to turn the flying—

Woman's—that might have sung of Heaven beside the dying!


LXXI.

It was a fearful, yet a glorious thing.
To hear that hymn of martyrdom, and know
That its glad stream of melody could spring
Up from th' unsounded gulfs of human woe!
Alvar! Theresa!—what is deep? what strong?
—God's breath within the soul!—It fill'd that song
From your victorious voices!—but the glow
On the hot air and lurid skies increased—

—Faint grew the sounds—more faint—I listen'd—they had ceas'd!
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