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Each potent spell thou bad’st him know.
And, while the panting tigress hies
His spirit laughs in agonies,
Mark who mounts the sacred pyre,
To die is to be blest :
She clasps her lord to part no more,
Weave the airy web of Fate;
The funeral rite of the Hindoor. + The Fates of the Northern Mythology. See Maller's Antiquities. 1 An allusion to the Second Sight.
Each unhewn mass of living stone
Was clad in horrors not its own, And at its base the trembling nations bowed.
Giant Error, darkly grand,
Grasped the globe with iron hand. Circled with seats of bliss, the Lord of Light Saw prostrate worlds adore his golden height. The statue, waking with immortal powers, * Springs from its parent earth, and shakes the spheres The indignant pyramid sublimely towers, And braves the efforts of a host of years.
Sweet Music breathes her soul into the wind; And bright-eyed Painting stamps the image of the mind
Round the rude ark old Egypt's sorcerers rise !
A timbrelled anthem swells the gale,
And bids the God of Thunders hail;t With lowings loud the captive God replies.
* Æn. II. 172, &c.
+ The bull, Apis.
Clouds of incense woo thy smile,
Scaly monarch of the Nile ! * But ah! what myriads claim the bended knee! + Go, count the busy drops that swell the sea. Proud land! what eye can trace thy mystic lore, Locked up in characters as dark as night? I What eye those long, long labyrinths dare explore, & To which the parted soul oft wings her flight;
Again to visit her cold cell of clay, Charmed with perennial sweets, and smiling at decay?
On yon hoar summit, mildly bright ||
With purple ether's liquid light,
On dazzling bursts of heavenly fire ;
say, what sounds my ear invade
• The Crocodile.
+ According to an ancient proverb, it was less difficult in Egypt to find * god than a man.
The Hieroglyphics. Ś The Catacombs. 1 " The Persians," says Herodotus,“ have no temples, altars, or statnes. They sacrifice on the tops of the highest mountains.” I. 131.
From Delphi's venerable shade?
Her figure swells ! she foams, she raves !
Streams of rapture roll along,
Silver notes ascend the skies :
Oh catch it, ere it dies !
Breathing a prophetic flame.
Even whisper to the idle air ;
• Æn. VI. 46, &c.
Shivered by thy piercing glance,
Pointless falls the hero's lance. Thy magic bids the imperial eagle fly, * And blasts the laureate wreath of victory. Hark, the bard's soul inspires the vocal string ! At every pause dread Silence hovers o'er: While murky Night sails round on raven-wing, Deepening the tempest's howl, the torrent's roar;
Chased by the Morn from Snowdon's awful brow, Where late she sate and scowled on the black wave below.
Lo, steel-clad War his gorgeous standard rears !
The red-cross squadrons madly rage,t
And mow thro' infancy and age;
Veiling from the eye of day,
Penance dreams her life away; In cloistered solitude she sits and sighs, While from each shrine still, small responses rise.
* See Tacitus, l. xiv. c. 29.
+ This remarkable event happened at the siege and sack of Jerusalem in the last year of the eleventh century. Matth. Paris, IV 2.