Idyls and Songs by Francis Turner Palgrave: 1848-1854 |
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II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
XII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. | XXIII.
THE BURIAL OF ST. CATHERINE,
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XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
LVI. |
LVII. |
LVIII. |
LIX. |
LX. |
LXI. |
LXIII. |
LXIII. |
LXIV. |
LXV. |
LXVI. |
LXVII. |
LXVIII. |
LXIX. |
LXX. |
LXXI. |
LXXII. |
LXXIII. |
LXXIV. |
LXXV. |
LXXVI. |
LXXVII. |
LXXVIII. |
LXXIX. |
LXXX. |
LXXXII. |
Idyls and Songs | ||
59
XXIII. THE BURIAL OF ST. CATHERINE,
CARRIED BY ANGELS TO THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT SINAI.
They bore her from the ruby West.
The roseate silver of their wings,
As on the rushing convoy springs,
Dies down within the gray dark East.
The roseate silver of their wings,
As on the rushing convoy springs,
Dies down within the gray dark East.
They bore her from the fading West,
Fair martyr-maid, brave heart and true,
Through mist-white spaces gem'd with dew
Within her dew-cool couch to rest.
Fair martyr-maid, brave heart and true,
Through mist-white spaces gem'd with dew
Within her dew-cool couch to rest.
Where, struck through lapping folds of cloud,
The splintery peak dark-moisten'd gleams,
High o'er the parting of the streams,
They wrapt her in her rock-hewn shroud.
The splintery peak dark-moisten'd gleams,
High o'er the parting of the streams,
They wrapt her in her rock-hewn shroud.
For one last gaze their Angel eyes
Are bow'd upon the martyr-maid.
She sleeps within the gray cool shade:
The eddying mist around her flies.
Are bow'd upon the martyr-maid.
She sleeps within the gray cool shade:
The eddying mist around her flies.
The tearful mist around her flies.
The Sun strikes sudden through the white:
The dewy spaces swim with light,
And all is glory where she lies.
The Sun strikes sudden through the white:
The dewy spaces swim with light,
And all is glory where she lies.
Idyls and Songs | ||