Now, O belovèd, may the weeping cease,—
To us has come the olive branch of peace!
“Cleanse from thy lute the rust that soils its string;
Hasten thee back, and, as thou goest, sing
Such joyful lays as yet may re-inspire
Hearts that are dead with new and tameless fire.
His Will is done; the Time is here; the Day
Dawns; and the Morning Star, so God doth say,
Shall be thy sign.”
Shall be thy sign.” Then darkness fell again;