VII.

Carmel, with Alp and Apennine, Low whispers in the wind that blows Beneath the Eastern stars, ere shine The lights of morning on their snows.

Of thee, Elias, Carmel speaks, And that white cloud, so small at first, Thou saw'st approach the mountain peaks To quench a dying nation's thirst.

On Carmel, like a sheathed sword, Thy monks abode till Jesus came; On Carmel then they served their Lord;— Then Carmel rang with Mary's name.

Blow over all the garden; blow O'er all the garden of the West, Balm-breathing Orient! Whisper low The secret of thy spicy nest.

"Who from the Desert upward moves Like cloud of incense onward borne? Who, moving, rests on Him she loves? Who mounts from regions of the Morn?

"Behold! The apple-tree beneath— There where of old thy Mother fell— I raised thee up. More strong than Death Is Love;—more strong than Death or Hell."