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THE FOREST SANCTUARY.
41


LXXVI.

I would have call'd, adjuring the dark cloud;
To the most ancient Heavens I would have said
—"Speak to me! show me truth8[1]!"—through night aloud
I would have cried to him, the newly dead,
"Come back! and show me truth!"—My spirit seem'd
Gasping for some free burst, its darkness teem'd
With such pent storms of thought!—again I fled—
I fled, a refuge from man's face to gain,

Scarce conscious when I paus'd, entering a lonely fane.


LXXVII.

A mighty minster, dim, and proud, and vast!
Silence was round the sleepers, whom its floor
Shut in the grave; a shadow of the past,
A memory of the sainted steps that wore
Erewhile its gorgeous pavement, seem'd to brood
Like mist upon the stately solitude,
A halo of sad fame to mantle o'er
Its white sepulchral forms of mail-clad men,

And all was hush'd as night in some deep Alpine glen.
  1. ↑
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