The dark Chaldean, from his cloud-hung tower,
Keeps his lone vigils by thy waning light,
For Israel keepeth Feast of solemn power,[[1]]
When thy bright beams shall fade at morning hour.
The stern Chaldean turns him from his lore
Where he hath writ the mighty destiny
Those stars revealed. Now seeks he thy dim shore,
Tiberias! the spirit-minstrelsy
Of unborn Ages breathes upon his lyre
In soul-wrapt flame. But hush! the far-off notes