Hurry the echoing streets along;
Through darkness rushing to the scene
Where their bold counsels still convene.
But there a blaze of torches bright
Pours its red radiance on the night,
O’er fane, and dome, and column playing,
With every fitful night-wind swaying:
Now floating o’er each tall arcade,
Around the pillar’d scene display’d,
In light relieved by depth of shade: