THE hour is nigh; the waning Queen
walks forth to rule the later night;
Crown'd with the sparkle of a Star,
and throned on orb of ashen light:
The Wolf-tail[1] sweeps the paling East
to leave a deeper gloom behind,
And Dawn uprears her shining head,
sighing with semblance of a wind:
The highlands catch yon Orient gleam,
while purpling still the lowlands lie;
And pearly mists, the morning-pride,
soar incense-like to greet the sky.
The horses neigh, the camels groan,
the torches gleam, the cressets flare;
The town of canvas falls, and man
with din and dint invadeth air: