The Sibyl
Not of earth's common mould was she,
On whose young soul Futurity―
The veil from those dark features raised―
With sad and solemn aspect gazed!
Often, in dream and reverie,
There came into her charmed ear,
With words of power and prophecy,
Voices from a sublimer sphere.
Forth from the chambers of the night―
From the dim deeps of wave and air,
Marvels and mysteries of might
To her, all trembling, shadowed were.
When by the still, dark lake, the trees
Without a wind were swayed and stirred,
Whispers and mutterings, that freeze
The life-blood round the heart, she heard;
And echoes, at whose earthquake shock
Pale corses in their coffins rock,
Came harsh and hollow-sounding forth
From cavernous regions under earth.
For from the very lake, whereby
She dwelt, Cimmerian caverns led
Down from the shining sun and sky,
To gloom, to Hades and the dead!
W. G.
The Broadway Journal (October 25, 1845)
