XXXVI.

The signs are full. They are not in the sky, Nor in the many voices of the air, Nor the swift clouds. No fiery hosts on high Toss their wild spears: no meteor banners glare, No comet fiercely shakes its blazing hair; And yet the signs are full: too truly seen In the thinn’d ramparts, in the pale despair Which lends one language to a people’s mien, And in the ruin’d heaps where wall and towers have been!