Jephthah and Other Mysteries

164 MYSTERIES : Dawn’s finger shall be raised, its wrath shall cease, The sun shall rouse us whom the tempest lulled, And thy poor poet’s mind . For respite by its own deep anguish dulled Shall wake again to watch the cruel day Drift slowly on its chill and wasted way With but thy smile to inspire some sad melodious lay. From whose rude caverns sweep these gusty wings That shake the steeples as they mock at God ? Who reared the stallion wind? Whose foaling flings The billows starward? Whose the steeds fire-shod That sweep throughout the world? What spearman sings The fearful chant of war That fires, and spurs, and maddens all the kings That rule o’er earth, and air, and ocean? Whose hand excites the star | To shatter into fiery flakes? No man,. No petty god, but One who governs all, Slips the sun’s leash, perceives the sparrow’s fall, Too high for man to fear, too near for man to call. O virgin Poesy, the link is thine To bring us near ; the suffering of thy path Hath its reward, desire that is divine Strengthens and gladdens, and thy beauty hath This joy moreover—It is strong as wine And sweet as honey is.