 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
407
SONNET.—DELPHI.
Voiceless! No more the sacred oracleDeclares the will of fate! The iron tongue
Grew silent, when it could not speak her own,
And, with Parnassus, in dumb sympathy,
Cover'd her head with weeds! But these have wrung
A voice from out the silence which must spell
The children of the ages—and the Unknown,
Redressing the great Past, shall gather nigh—
A stranger, yet a worshipper—and tell
How fresh the echoes still, that once among
These gray rocks, rose to thunders—how the tone
That lost itself in these proud solitudes,
Took wing, and found new temples where it broods,
A God in exile, true, but not without a throne.
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |