LXII.
And oh, ye secret and terrific powers!
Dark oracles! in depth of groves that dwelt,
How are they sunk, the altars of your bowers,
Where Superstition trembled as she knelt!
Ye, the unknown, the viewless ones! that made
The elements your voice, the wind and wave;
Spirits! whose influence darken’d many a shade,
Mysterious visitants of fount and cave!
How long your power the awe-struck nations sway’d,
How long earth dreamt of you, and shudderingly obey’d!