LXXI.
It was a fearful, yet a glorious thing
To hear that hymn of martyrdom, and know
That its glad stream of melody could spring
Up from th’ unsounded gulfs of human woe!
Alvar! Theresa!—what is deep? what strong?
—God’s breath within the soul! It fill’d that song
From your victorious voices! But the glow
On the hot air and lurid skies increased:
Faint grew the sounds—more faint: I listen’d—they had ceased!