80
A DRAMA OF EXILE.
To the final Restitution! Listen to our loving! Second semichorus. So, when the day of God is To the thick graves accompted; Awaking the dead bodies, The angel of the trumpet Shall split the charnel earth To the roots of the grave, Which never before were slackened; And quicken the charnel birth, With his blast so clear and brave; Till the Dead all stand erect,— And every face of the burial-place Shall the awful, single look, reflect, Wherewith he them awakened. Listen to our loving! First semichorus. But wild is the horse of Death! He will leap up wild at the clamour Above and beneath; And where is his Tamer On that last day, When he crieth, Ha, ha! To the trumpet's evangel, And paweth the earth's Aceldama? When he tosseth his head, The drear-white steed, And champeth athwart the last moon-ray, Oh, where is the angel Can lead him away, That the living may rule for the Dead? Second semichorus. Yet a Tamer shall be found! One more bright than seraphs crowned, And more strong than cherub bold; Elder, too, than angel old, By his grey eternities,—
