He bids the wrath of ages cease.
5. Descend, benignant Power! But O,
Ye torrents, shake no more the vale:
Dark streams, in silence seaward flow:
Thou rising storm, remit thy wail.
6. Shake not, to-night, the cliffs of Moher,
Nor Brandon’s base, rough sea! Thou Isle,
The Rite proceeds! From shore to shore,
Hold in thy gathered breath the while.
7. Fall, snow! in stillness fall, like dew,