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When the passing bell doth toll,
When the tapers now burn blue,
When the priest his last hath prayed,
When, God knows, I'm tost about
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the Tempter me pursu'th.
When the flames and hellish cries Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me.
When the judgment is revealed,
TO KEEP A TRUE LENT.
Is this a fast — to keep
Is it to quit the dish
Of flesh, yet still
The platter high with fish?
Is it to fast an hour —
No! 'tis a fast to dole
Thy sheaf of wheat,
It is to fast from strife,
To show a heart grief-rent;
Thomas Kibble Hervey.
CLEOPATRA EMBARKING ON THE CYDNUS.
Flutes in the sunny air! And harps in the porphyry halls!
And a low, deep hum like a people s prayer,
With its heart-breathed swells and falls!
And an echo like the desert's call,
Flung back to the shouting shores! And the river's ripple heard through all,
As it plays with the silver oars! —
The sky is a gleam of gold,
Like thoughts to be dreamed of, but
She has stepped on the burning sand; And the thousand tongues are mute,
And the Syrian strikes with a trembling hand The strings of his gilded lute! And the Ethiop's heart throbs loud and high Beneath his white symar.