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33
I.
“------της αγαν γαρ εστι που σιγης βαρος
.”
Soph. Antig. 1256.
Soph. Antig. 1256.
When human words are found too weak
Some dreadful weight of woe to speak,
The poet drops his oar and sail,
And Silence bids to tell the tale.
Some dreadful weight of woe to speak,
The poet drops his oar and sail,
And Silence bids to tell the tale.
Dido, Jocasta, Creon's wife
Entangled in a mortal strife,
In silence hide the desperate will,
And in a thunder-cloud are still.
Entangled in a mortal strife,
In silence hide the desperate will,
And in a thunder-cloud are still.
“I held my tongue, and spake nothing: I kept silence.”
Ps. xxxix. 3.
Ps. xxxix. 3.
The loudest thunder hath no tongue
More dread than is this stillness long,
Which seems to wrap all nature round,
Awaiting the last Trumpet's sound.
More dread than is this stillness long,
Which seems to wrap all nature round,
Awaiting the last Trumpet's sound.
Such noiseless foot-falls, stillness-shod,
Which seem to mark the ways of God,
Sound deeper than the outward sense,
With a strange awful eloquence.
Which seem to mark the ways of God,
Sound deeper than the outward sense,
With a strange awful eloquence.
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