AND ANGLING SONGS. 255 



XXII. 

 But the old faith, which fondly clung 



To signs and omens, is disturb'd ; 



The tide of superstition curb'd 

 That wander'd betwixt heart and tongue. 



XXI II. 



Ay ! even his wishes lie repell'd 



By the fierce furnace overhead, 



Or reach the lips, to die unsaid ; 

 So sunk the heart from which they we! I'd. 



XXIV. 



Oh ! quickly melt, ye skies of brass ! 



Drop, cruel heav'ns, your crystal stores ! 



Open at length the long-barr'd doors, 

 And let the glad libation pass ! 



XXV. 



Relent apace, oh ! eye of day 



That blazing smitest, like a sword 



Grasp'd by an angel of the Lord, 

 And give the brimming tears their way ! 



XXVI. 



Ye eyes of night ! a token bring, 



Entreat for us, thou Dian chaste ! 



The coursers of the watery waste, 

 And round thee bind thy mystic ring. 



XXVII. 



The cloud no bigger than a hand, 



Awaits thy signal in the West, 



Ready to do thy high behest, 

 And roll salvation o'er the land. 



