Then stood forth one, a child of other sires,
And other inspiration!—one of those,
Who on the willows hung their captive lyres,
And sat, and wept, where Babel's river flows.
His eye was bright, and yet the deep repose
Of his pale features half o'erawed the mind,
And imag'd forth a soul whose joys and woes
Were of a loftier stamp than aught assign'd
To earth; a being seal'd and sever'd from mankind.
Yes!—what was earth to him, whose spirit pass'd
Time's utmost bounds?—on whose unshrinking sight
Ten thousand shapes of burning glory cast
Their full resplendence?—majesty and might
Were in his dreams;—for him the veil of light,
Shrouding heaven's inmost sanctuary and throne,
The curtain of th' Unutterably Bright,
Was rais'd!—to him, in awful splendor shown,
Ancient of Days! e'en Thou, mad'st Thy dread presence known!
He spoke: the shadows of the things to come,
Pass'd o'er his soul:—"O king, elate in pride!
God hath sent forth the writing of thy doom,
The One, the living God, by thee defied;
