University of Virginia Library

XX.

A beam of glory as she rose,
Bright as the sunrise upon snows,
Was seen to light her iris first,
Then round her lips in brilliance burst.
Near to the altar's fire she drew,
And in her sweetest incense threw.
The precious offering slumbered not,
But in an odorous column shot
To the high dome aloft, and thence
Returned in clouds of redolence.
Shook the lit statue; and a blaze
Which even celestial eyes might daze,
In starry coronal adorns
The awful head, and lunar horns.
One moment burned the unruffled light,—
Wavered—and all again was night.
With chanted hymn the sacred hind,
Stainless as snow, and fleet as wind,
From dallying with the flowers that bound,
Chain-like, her beauteous frontal round,
Led to the altar, strives to fly
And fills the temple with her cry.
And as the appointed virgin brings
The silver sword, aloft was heard
The clangour of resounding wings,
And lo! within, the Thunderer's bird
Shot, and his broad brown pinions spread
Darkly around the victim's head;
Then, as the crashing ram breaks down
The walls of a beleaguered town,
Buried in brains the enormous beak;
Oh! it was terrible to hear
The tortured animal's strong shriek
Of passion, agony, and fear,
Becoming momently more weak.—
It strove, but vainly strove, to free
Its eyes from the bewildering wing;
A struggle yet—it may not be!
It lies a lifeless, bloody thing,
And the fierce bird abroad has fled,
With eye more wild, and talons red.
All stood astonished and aghast!
But when its evil plumes were passed,
There stole along the pillared fane
An unimaginable strain:
At once so musical and holy,
So sweet, so sad, so melancholy,
The fatal pæan touched and stirred
To instant sorrow all who heard;
That none, when hushed its dirge of grief,
But felt in silence some relief;
Yet, though the sound was fraught with pain,
Wished for its ravishing voice again.
At that prophetic sound and sign,
Fear shook the Priestess of the shrine:
She knew the God who rules the sky
Had given the fateful bird to fly;
And, with her waving arm forbade.
Renewal of the rites delayed.
To the wail of flutes with mourning hearts,
The long processional departs.
Alone, and with a warrior's pride,
Alpinus stands by Julia's side.
Each ornament of sacrifice
From her disrobed, before her lies:
When next her lips essayed to speak,
The voice was tremulous and weak.