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71
FANATICISM, A NIGHT-SCENE IN THE OPEN AIR.
These sectaries deal in parodies of truth—Their narrow-minded fancies, crude and mean,
Uttered with gestures wild and words uncouth
In nature's mighty presence, move our spleen,
When they should move our tears. The gale blew loud,
But still the raving and the rant were heard—
Just then I marked, how, from a flying cloud,
Orion swiftly drew his belt and sword,
As he would mount to higher heavens, and go
Still further from the earth! how little dreamed
The hot fanatic, breathing flames and woe,
Of that ineffable contrast! Stars that gleamed,
Free winds and fleecy drift, how pure they seemed,
How alien from the hearts that grovelled so!
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