Page:Songs of the Affections.pdf/174

Of rainbow glory down through arch and aisle,
    Kindling old banners into haughty gleams,
Flushing proud shrines, or by some warrior's tomb
Dying away in clouds of gorgeous gloom:

Not for rich music, though in triumph pealing,
    Mighty as forest sounds when winds are high;
Nor yet for torch, and cross, and stole, revealing
    Through incense-mists their sainted pageantry:—
Though o'er the spirit each hath charm and power,
Yet not for these I ask one lingering hour.

But by strong sympathies, whose silver cord
    Links me to mortal weal, my soul is bound;
Thoughts of the human hearts, that here have pour'd
    Their anguish forth, are with me and around;—
I look back on the pangs, the burning tears,
Known to these altars of a thousand years.

Send up a murmur from the dust, Remorse!
    That here hast bow'd with ashes on thy head;