Chapter 16 16

Yet burns the sun on high beyond the cloud;

Each in his southern cave,

The warm winds linger, but to be allowed

One breathing o'er the wave,

One flight across the unquiet sky;

Swift as a vane may turn on high,

The smile of heaven comes on.

So waits the Lord behind the veil,

His light on frenzied cheek, or pale,

To shed wh