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The Legend of St. Loy

With Other Poems. By John Abraham Heraud
  
  

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 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
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 XXVIII. 
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 XXXVI. 
 XXXIII. 
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 XXIX. 
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XXVI. The Hymn.
  
  
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XXVI. The Hymn.

High o'er the Thrones of Light
The eternal Father reigns,
The refuge, fortress, tower, and might,
Of Virtue, when she plains,
Compassed with death, with sorrows prest,
With floods of fear, and snares of hell;
Her voice ascends his temples blest! —
In wrath he rises terrible!

162

His spear he seizes; and the lightnings fly!
He speaks — the thunder echoes through the sky!
Shakes the firm earth! tremble the hills!
The smoke of wrath the concave fills!
And fire, forth issuing from his breath,
Strikes the land with flame and death!
Bow, ye heavens! the God descends!
Darkness beneath his feet extends!
Upon the rapid cherub riding,
On wings of winds he flies abroad,
Himself in his pavilion hiding,
Of water dark, and gathered cloud!
His brightness melts the gloomy veil,
Pass the clouds! descends the hail!
He gave his voice — its peals resound!
His arrows quit the bow —
Discomfiture and Terror wound,
In lightning, every foe!
The channels of the watery waste,
The world's foundations are revealed,
At thy rebuke, and angry blast,
Virtue's Deliverer, Rock, and Shield!

163

Up to his holy hill
In triumph he returns!
Where, of consummate beauty still,
The breathing altar burns;
In sacred silence, watched by Love,
The immortal incense fills the sky,
With glory decked so far above
The domes of earthly majesty,
That Orient monarchs, when they enter there
Shall with the peasant equal wonder share!
 

Part of Ps. xviii.