"Shrill trumpet of God! I shrink at thy blast,
That shakes the firm hills to their centre with dread,
And have thought in that conflict--earth's saddest and last--
That thy deep chilling sigh will awaken the dead!"
CHAPTER XI
Michael Macbride
"His day of life is closing--the long night
Of dreamless rest a dusky shadow throws,
Between the dying and the things of earth,
Enfolding in a chill oblivious pall
The last sad struggles of a broken heart.