. Ballads of bravery. en down tlie stormy crescent goes, A light before me swims,Between dark stems the forest glows, I hear a noise of hymns:Then by some secret shrine I ride; I hear a voice, but none are there;The stalls are void, the doors are wide, The tapers burning gleams the sno\\y altar-cloth, The silver vessels sparkle clean,The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, And solemn chants resound between. Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark;I leap on board: no helmsman steers: I float till all is gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the holy G
. Ballads of bravery. en down tlie stormy crescent goes, A light before me swims,Between dark stems the forest glows, I hear a noise of hymns:Then by some secret shrine I ride; I hear a voice, but none are there;The stalls are void, the doors are wide, The tapers burning gleams the sno\\y altar-cloth, The silver vessels sparkle clean,The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, And solemn chants resound between. Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark;I leap on board: no helmsman steers: I float till all is gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the holy Grail:With folded feet, in stoles of white. On sleeping wings they , blessed vision! blood of God! My spirit beats her mortal down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars. When on my goodly charger borne Through dreaming towns I cock crows ere the Christmas morn. The streets are dumb with tempest crackles on the leads. And, ringing, springs from brand and mail; ^. \ But oer the dark a glory spreads, And gilds the driving leave the plain, I climb the height; No branchy thicket shelter yields;But blessed forms in whistling storms Fly oer waste fens and windy fields. A maiden knight, to me is given Such hope, I know not fear;I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven That often meet me muse on joy that will not cease, Pure spaces clothed in living beams,Pure lilies of eternal peace. Whose odors haunt my dreams;And, stricken by an angels hand, This mortal armor that I weight and size, this heart and eyes, Are touched, are turned to finest air. The clouds are broken in the sky, And through the mountain-wallsA rolling organ-harmony Swells up, and shakes and move the trees, the copses nod. Wings flutter, voices hover clear:*0 just and faithful knight of God, Ride on! the prize is pass I hostel, hall, and grange; By bridge and ford, by park and pale,All armed I ride, whateer betide, Until I fi
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookpu, booksubjectenglishpoetry
