XIX.
The timbrels ring; the doors, unfolding
In music on the silver hinge,
Alpinus comes, not now beholding,
Wrapt in a robe of sablest tinge,
Those sculptured walls where Niobe
In marble mourns her guilt away.
From her lost fate he could not borrow
One deeper sentiment of sorrow.
He comes with wisely-guarded lips,
Lest inauspicious words eclipse
The brightness of the fires divine,
Thus onward to the holy shrine,
Where, in her robes pontifical,
Loose locks—a purple flower in all,
And silver censer in her hands,
Serene the priestess-daughter stands,
Now thrice to east, to west she turns,
Then bids her handmaids bring the urns.
Ten virgins, the lit shrine around,
Move, without shadow, without sound.
Some sprinkle coldest dews abroad;
One brings the sacrificial sword,
And in Aventia's guardian name
Strews salt and incense on the flame.
Pity and awe all hearts pervade,
As, kneeling low, the holy maid,
Her white arms on her heaving breast,
The pure Divinity addressed.
1.
Virgin fair!
Who under piny shadows rovest,
Hearing the tasseled horn in caves unlock
The sprightly echo which thou lovest;—
If in happy childhood ere
I made my haunts the sunless rock,
Playing with the springs which well,
Whispering forth thine oracle;
By my dedicated zone.
And a mother's love unknown;
By each vow that did transfer
That dear name to thee from her;
By thine own Latona's love,
Listen, Goddess of the grove!
2.
Holy Queen!
Gladdener of heaven, and earth, and ocean,
Whose unveiled face the Egyptian nightly eyes,
And Syrian, fixt in deep devotion,
On his palmy hills serene,
Isis, or Astarte, rise!
By thy sceptre, bow, and flames,
Hecate of a hundred names!
Or what other name soe'er
Best may suit thy saintly ear;
Thou in whose immortal quest
Purest hearts look loveliest;
Virgin! to a virgin's cry,
Listen, Lady of the sky!
3.
Sister twin!
Reflex of the God of glory,
Whose shield is safety, and whose lyre is life,
Sounding heroes deeds in story,
Lo, thy sanctuary within,
A father arming for the strife!
Let thine accents blandishing,
Lady, rule the Lycian string;
Let round him, in battle's hour,
Egis blaze, and arrows pour!
So may fires eternal shine
Round thy consecrated shrine;
Duly every night and morn,
Dulcet honey dew thy horn:
Sacred Sister of the brave!
In heaven or hell, by grove or wave,
Virgin Goddess! hear and save.
