 | The Legend of St. Loy |  |
XI.
Their musings have kept them too long from their sleep:—The clock strikes twelve!—disjointed and deep,
On the wild cadence of the blast,
The echoing sounds came erring and fast,
But still they kneel in prayer—
Devotion's flame hath kindled high,
And from the earth their spirits fly,
Entranced above the upper sky;
While, from his starry sphere,
Sailed many an Angel to that Grove,
Upon the golden wings of love,
To bear their words to Him above,
And truly register
In God's own book, their righteous way,
To be produced at that great Day,
When christ shall come with radiant sway,
Omnipotence and fear,
24
Lo, all around that simple shrine,
Doth their celestial tendance shine,
And stand in secret there:
Their wings throughout that Cell are bright;
They fill it with unearthly light,
And chase the darkness drear.
| The Legend of St. Loy | |