But whence the sudden beam that shoots along?
Why shrink aghast the hostile throng?
Lo, from amidst Affliction's night,
Hope bursts, all radiant, on the sight:
Her words the troubled bosom sooth.
"Why thus dismayed?
"Though foes invade,
"Hope ne'er is wanting to their aid,
"Who tread the path of truth.
"'Tis I, who smooth the rugged way,
"I, who close the eyes of Sorrow,
"And with glad visions of to-morrow
"Repair the weary soul's decay.
"When Death's cold touch thrills to the freezing heart,
"Dreams of heaven's opening glories I impart,
"Till the freed spirit springs on high,
"In rapture too severe for weak Mortality."
_PYGMAEO-GERANO-MACHIA_,
THE BATTLE OF
THE PIGMIES AND CRANES.