LXXVII.
The rite is o’er. The band of brethren part,
Once—and but once—to meet on earth again!
Each, in the strength of a collected heart,
To dare what man may dare—and know ’tis vain!
The rite is o’er: and thou, majestic fane!
The glory is departed from thy brow!—
Be clothed with dust!—the Christian’s farewell strain
Hath died within these walls; thy Cross must bow,
Thy kingly tombs be spoil’d, the golden shrines laid low!