Yet, by your shining eyes not all forsaken,
Man wandered from his Paradise away;
Ye, from forgetfulness his heart to waken,
Came down, high guests! in many a later day,
And with the Patriarchs, under vine or oak,
Midst noontide calm or hush of evening, spoke.
From you, the veil of midnight-darkness rending,
Came the rich mysteries to the Sleeper's eye,
That saw your hosts ascending and descending
On those bright steps between the earth and sky:
Trembling he woke, and bowed o'er glory's trace,
And worshipped, awe-struck, in that fearful place.
By Chebar's[1] brook ye passed, such radiance wearing
As mortal vision might but ill endure;
Along the stream the living chariot bearing,
With its high crystal arch, intensely pure!
And the dread rushing of your wings that hour,
Was like the noise of waters in their power.
- ↑ Ezekiel, chap. x.
