E’en now, as Faith’s mysterious cup is pour’d,
See to that noble brow, peace, not of earth, restored!
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