LII.

And they have reach’d a gorgeous chamber, bright With all we dream of splendour; yet a gloom Seems gather’d o’er it to the boding sight, A shadow that anticipates the tomb! Still from its fretted roof the lamps illume A purple canopy, a golden throne; But it is empty!--hath the stroke of doom Fallen there already? Where is He, the One, Born that high seat to fill, supremely and alone?