LXII.

Again, and yet again! A startling power In sounds like these lives ever; for they bear, Full on remembrance, each eventful hour Checkering life’s crowded path. They fill the air When conquerors pass, and fearful cities wear A mien like joy’s; and when your brides are led From their paternal homes; and when the glare Of burning streets on midnight’s cloud waves red, And when the silent house receives its guest--the dead.[217]