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Whether it whelm us memory-less and lost
In the abysmal gulf of nothingness,
Or cast us on a shadow-haunted shore
For ultimate purgation by a fire
As soiled asbestos whitens in the flame
Or, maybe waft us to the fortunate isles,
Of lost Atlantis, then at last regained.
Damis.(To Libanius):
What stir unwonted fills the fane to-day?
It has not known such throng of pilgrimage,
These many years. From ancient villages
Sequester'd, and great cities far away
Flock in the faithful of the Elder Gods,
Stirring old echoes that I thought were dead.
On altars long neglected incense fumes,
Whilst wreathéd roses round the image flung
Riot with more than Egypt's opulence.
