They found thee, Lady Mary,
With thy palms upon thy breast, Even as thou hadst been praying, At thine hour of rest: The cold pale moon was shining
On thy cold pale cheek; And the morn of the Nativity Had just begun to break.
They carv'd thee, Lady Mary, All of pure white stone, With thy palms upon thy breast, In the chancel all alone :
And I saw thee when the winter moon
Shone on thy marble cheek, When the morn of the Nativity Had just begun to break.
But thou kneelest, Lady Mary, With thy palms upon thy breast, Among the perfect spirits, In the land of rest:
Thou art even as they took thee At thine hour of prayer,
Save the glory that is on thee
From the sun that shineth there.
We shall see thee, Lady Mary, On that shore unknown, A pure and happy angel
In the presence of the throne; We shall see thee when the light divine Plays freshly on thy cheek,
And the resurrection morning Hath just begun to break.
THE ROMAN LEGIONS Он, aged Time! how far, and long, Travell'd have thy pinions strong, Since the masters of the world
Here their eagle-wings unfurl'd. Onward as the legions pass'd, Was heard the Roman trumpet's blast, And see the mountain portals old Now their opening gates unfold.
Slow moves the Consul's car between Bright glittering helms and axes keen; O'er moonlit rocks, and ramparts bare, High the Pretorian banners glare. Afar is heard the torrent's moan, The winds through rifted caverns groan; The vulture's huge primeval nest, Wild toss'd the pine its shatter'd crest; Darker the blackening forest frown'd: Strange murmurs shook the trembling ground.
In the old warrior's midnight dream Gigantic shadows seem'd to gleam, The Caudine forks, and Canna's field Again their threatening cohorts yield. Seated on the Thunderer's throne, He saw the shapes of gods unknown, Saw in Olympus' golden hall The volleyed lightning harmless fall, The great and Capitolian lord Dim sink, 'mid nameless forms abhorr❜d. Shook the Tarpeian cliff; around The trembling Augur felt the sound; Saw, God of Light! in deathly shade, Thy rich, resplendent tresses fade,
And from the empty car of day The ethereal coursers bound away.
Then frequent rose the signal shrill, Oft heard on Alba's echoing hill, Or down the Apulian mountains borne, The mingled swell of trump and horn; The stern centurion frown'd to hear Unearthly voices murmuring near; Back to his still and Sabine home Fond thoughts and favorite visions roam. Sweet Vesta! o'er the woods again He views thy small and silent fane ; He sees the whitening torrents leap And flash round Tibur's mountain-steep; Sees Persian ensigns wide unroll'd, Barbaric kings in chains of gold; O'er the long Appian's crowded street, Sees trophied arms and eagles meet, Through the tall arch their triumph pour, Till rose the trumpet's louder roar ; From a thousand voices nigh Burst on his ear the banner-cry, And o'er the concave rocks, the sound "AVRELIVS," smote with stern rebound.
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