And of his seed did faithful shepherds take.
Edward Irving.
CCLVI
THE EVENING CLOUD.
A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun;
A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow;
Long had I watched the glory moving on,
O’er the still radiance of the lake below;
Tranquil its spirit seemed and floated slow; 5
Even in its very motion there was rest;
While every breath of eve that chanced to blow