234 WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE. [1830-40. Slowly the daring words went trampling through the halls. "Nor in the Earth, nor Hell, nor Sky, The Ideal, O ye Gods ! can ever die, But to the soul of man unceasing calls. II. " Still Jove shall wrap His awful eyebi'ows in Olympian shrouds. Or take along the Heaven's dark wil- derness His thunder-chase behind the hunted Clouds. And mortal eyes upturned shall behold Apollo's robe of gold Sweep through the long blue corridor of the sky That, kindling, speaks its Deity : And He, the Euler of the Sunless Land Of restless ghosts, shall fitfully illume With smouldering fires, that stir in cav- erned eyes. Hell's mournful House of Gloom. "Still the ethereal Huntress, as of old. Shall roam amid the sacred Latnios mountains. And lave her virgin limbs in waters cold That Earth holds up for her in marble fountains. And, in his august dreams along the Italian streams. That poor old Saturn, with his throneless frown. Will feebly grasp the air for his lost crown. Then murmur sadly low of his great over- throw. "Wrapt in his sounding mail shall he appear. War's Charioteer! And where the conflict reels Urge through the swnying lines his crash- in<j wheels : Or pause to hear, amid the horrent shades, The deep, hoarse cry of Battle's hungry Blades Led by the thirsty Spear — Till at the weary Combat's close They give their passionate thanks Amid tiie panting ranks of conquered foes — Tlien, drunken with their god's red wine, Go swooning to repose around his purple shrine. "And He, the Trident-wielder, still shall see The adoring Billows kneel around his feet, While at his nod the Winds in ministry Before their altar of the Tempest meet : Or — leaning gently over Paphian isles, Cheered by the music of some Triton's horn Hailing the opening rose of Morn — Lift up the starry curtain of the Night To its dim window tops above. And bathe thy dewy eyelids with the light, Voluptuous Queen of Love I And thou, ah, thou ! Awaking from thy slumber, thou shalt press Thy passionate lips upon the Sea-Lord's brow In some sweet, lone recess. Where waters murmur and the dim leaves bow. And young Endymion At Night's ethereal noon, Shall still be watched o'er by the love-sick Moon, Who tlirills to find him in some lonely vale Before her silver lamp may fail: And Pan shall play his pleasant reeds Down in the lonesome glen, And young-eyed Fauns on charmed meads Waylay Muse-haunted men. "Nor absent She whose eyes of azure throw Truth's sun-burst on the world below —
