The orphan’s portion and the widow’s store:
What recks his heart though age unsuccour’d die,
And want consume the cheek of infancy?
Away, intruders!—hark! a mighty sound!
Behold, a burst of light!—away, away!
A fearful glory fills the temple round,
A vision bright in terrible array!
And lo! a steed of no terrestrial frame,
His path a whirlwind and his breath a flame!
His neck is clothed with thunder,[125] and his mane