FATE brooded darkly o'er the ancient world,
Athens and Rome beneath her shadow dwelt;
The snaky terror of her eye lay curled
In every joy the trembling peoples felt.

What though the skies were blue, and all their light
Fell full upon the many-coloured crowd;
When the wrapt audience heard with vague affright
Flying Orestes wail his doom aloud?

Vainly for them the Alban hills were green,
Or groves of Academe besprent with flowers,
If the dread Deity, with shears unseen,
Might cut the quivering thread of mortal hours.

Her throne was mystery--and men fled the place,
But now, behold transfigured what they saw!
Sublimely changed for us that awful Face
Which Faith has recognised and christened Law.