XIV.

Silence upon the mountains! But within The city’s gate a rush, a press, a swell Of multitudes, their torrent-way to win; And heavy boomings of a dull deep bell, A dead pause following each--like that which parts The dash of billows, holding breathless hearts Fast in the hush of fear--knell after knell; And sounds of thickening steps, like thunder-rain That plashes on the roof of some vast echoing fane!