And strove to speak—for in that dark and fearful dream
He passed the portals of the phantom Death!
“The chains that clogged my spirit’s pinions roll
Powerless back to earth—a vain, base clod,
And awe-inspiring thoughts brood o’er my soul,
As angels hover round the ark of God!
I see before me in the distance far
A mystic altar veiled, and part concealed
Amid the tresses of a burning star,
Whose mysteries from earth are ever sealed!