05.05.2009, 18:38
THE MILLENNIUM.
Darkness and tumult till the thousandth year;
As in the dreary nights, when men lie dumb,
Listening the whirlwind; then pale lights to some
Shine, as the gusty morning climbs the sphere.
The thunders of Time's chariot wheel draw near:
It hath gone by—the dread Millennium—
Shout, for the world hath ages yet to come;
Rise man, that like a bull-rush crouched for fear.
He rises.—O'er the mighty Lombard plain,
By far Transalpine cities, domes and spires,
And baptisteries, sweet charm of mortal sorrow,
Spring up ; like flowers dew-glitter ing, when the quires
Of birds from winter loosed break forth again,
In a new note, from the old that yet doth borrow
Darkness and tumult till the thousandth year;
As in the dreary nights, when men lie dumb,
Listening the whirlwind; then pale lights to some
Shine, as the gusty morning climbs the sphere.
The thunders of Time's chariot wheel draw near:
It hath gone by—the dread Millennium—
Shout, for the world hath ages yet to come;
Rise man, that like a bull-rush crouched for fear.
He rises.—O'er the mighty Lombard plain,
By far Transalpine cities, domes and spires,
And baptisteries, sweet charm of mortal sorrow,
Spring up ; like flowers dew-glitter ing, when the quires
Of birds from winter loosed break forth again,
In a new note, from the old that yet doth borrow