As when an anthem in full chorus-swell
Hath swept away, one solitary note,
Dreamy and low as chime of far-off bell,
Through the deep silence tremblingly doth float—
As when the sun, in crimson clouds of even,
Hath sunk from sight, and all the hills are gray,
A feeble ray yet lingers in the heaven,
A smile upon the face of dying Day—
So, when the voices of the sons of song
Have rolled in thunder o’er a trancëd nation,
When silence falls upon that glorious throng,
And men are hushed in awful expectation,
Let Cam and Isis, with attunëd flow,
Through the dumb aching void prolong their strain,
Lest the vast music, that enchains us so,
With sudden pause the listening ear should pain.