VIII.

Come from the midnight mountain tops, The mountains where the panthers play: Descend; the veil of darkness drops; Come fair and fairer than the day!

Our hearts are wounded with thine eyes: They character in words of light Thereon the mystery of the skies: The "Name o'er every name" they write.

Come from thy Lebanonian peaks Whose sacerdotal cedars nod Above the world, when morning breaks— The Mountain of the House of God.

The land thou lov'st—well is she! The ploughers on her back may plough; But in her vales upgrows the Tree Of Life, and binds the bleeding brow.