LXVI.

Their homes are luxury’s yet; why pour they thence With a dim terror in each restless eye? Hath the dread car which bears the pestilence, In darkness, with its heavy wheels roll’d by, And rock’d their palaces, as if on high The whirlwind pass’d? From couch and joyous board Hath the fierce phantom beckon’d them to die![218] --No!--what are these?--for them a cup is pour’d More dark with wrath,--_man_ comes--the spoiler and the sword.