XLIX.

Sounds of triumphant praise! the mass was sung-- Voices that die not might have pour’d such strains! Through Salem’s towers might that proud chant have rung When the Most High, on Syria’s palmy plains, Had quell’d her foes!--so full it swept, a sea Of loud waves jubilant, and rolling free! --Oft when the wind, as through resounding fanes, Hath fill’d the choral forests with its power, Some deep tone brings me back the music of that hour.