HELIODORUS IN THE TEMPLE.
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Beams with the beauty to immortals given,
Magnificent in all the wrath of heaven.
Then sinks each gazer's heart—each knee is bow'd
In trembling awe-but, as to fields of fight,
Th' unearthly war-steed, rushing through the crowd,
Bursts on their leader in terrific might;
And the stern angels of that dread abode
Pursue its plunderer with the scourge of God.
Darkness—thick darkness!—low on earth he lies,
Rash Heliodorus—motionless and pale—
Bloodless his cheek, and o'er his shrouded eyes
Mists, as of death, suspend their shadowy veil;
And thus th' oppressor, by his fear-struck train,
Is borne from that inviolable fane.
The light returns—the warriors of the sky
Have pass'd, with all their dreadful pomp, away;
