HELENA'S BEACONS.
19
And there where dropped the bitter myrrh
Flowed fast the festal wine,
And wanton songs disturbed the air
That throbbed with sighs divine!
"God pardon us!" cried Helena;
And at her word they go
With eager hands and raptured hearts
To lay the temple low.
Column and altar, porch and roof,
And the statues false and fair,
To the hateful waste of Hinnom's vale
With swift accord they bear;
And the earth the lustrous marbles hid,
The heaped and heavy mould,
Abroad they fling; till, far beneath,
The Tomb their eyes behold—
The Sepulchre, and the rifted Rock,
And the Stone the angel rolled!
"God is our help!" quoth Helena,
"The Cross we yet shall see;"—
And searching all the eastern ledge,
Deep in a pit below its edge,
Just as the young moon's tender beam
Touched Zion's height and Kedron's stream,
They found the blessed Tree!
And O the shouts that rent the air,
And O the joy divine,
As they flew to light the beacon-fire
And flash the bliss of his soul's desire
To saintly Constantine! . . .
Flowed fast the festal wine,
And wanton songs disturbed the air
That throbbed with sighs divine!
"God pardon us!" cried Helena;
And at her word they go
With eager hands and raptured hearts
To lay the temple low.
Column and altar, porch and roof,
And the statues false and fair,
To the hateful waste of Hinnom's vale
With swift accord they bear;
And the earth the lustrous marbles hid,
The heaped and heavy mould,
Abroad they fling; till, far beneath,
The Tomb their eyes behold—
The Sepulchre, and the rifted Rock,
And the Stone the angel rolled!
"God is our help!" quoth Helena,
"The Cross we yet shall see;"—
And searching all the eastern ledge,
Deep in a pit below its edge,
Just as the young moon's tender beam
Touched Zion's height and Kedron's stream,
They found the blessed Tree!
And O the shouts that rent the air,
And O the joy divine,
As they flew to light the beacon-fire
And flash the bliss of his soul's desire
To saintly Constantine! . . .
