And to the cross, in fair Sophia’s fane,
For the last time is raised Devotion’s eye;
And, in his heart while faith’s bright visions rise,
There kneels the high-soul’d prince, the summon’d of the skies.
XXXVIII.
Day breaks in light and glory—’tis the hour
Of conflict and of fate—the war-note calls—
Despair hath lent a stern, delirious power
To the brave few that guard the rampart walls.
Far over Marmora’s waves th’ artillery’s peal