Nine days had now the Augur to the flock 102 Announced the coming of the heavenly spouse; Nine days his steps had wander'd through the rock, And his eye watch'd through unfamiliar boughs, And not a foot-fall in those rugged ways! The lone Alps wearied on his lonely gaze-- But now this day (the tenth) the signal torch 103 Streams from the temple; the mysterious swell Of long-drawn music peals from aisle to porch:-- He leaves the bright hall where the AEsars[15] dwell, He comes, o'er flowers and fountains to preside, He comes, the god-spouse to the mortal bride-- He comes, for whom ye watch'd, O lovely band, 104 Scatter your flowers before his welcome feet! Lo, where the temple's holy gates expand, Haste, O ye nymphs, the bright'ning steps to meet Why start ye back?--What though the blaze of steel The form of Mars, the expanding gates reveal-- The face, no helmet crowns with war, displays 105 Not that fierce god from whom Etruria fled; Cull from far softer legends while ye gaze, Not there the aspect mortal maid should dread! Have ye no songs from kindred Castaly Of that bright Wanderer from the Olympian[16] sky, Who, in Arcadian dells, with silver lute 106 Hush'd in delight the nymph and breathless faun? Or are your cold Etrurian minstrels mute Of him whom Syria worshipp'd as the Dawn And Greece as fair Adonis? Hail, O hail! Scatter your flowers, and welcome to the vale! Wondering the stranger moves! That fairy land, 107 Those forms of dark yet lustrous loveliness,[17] That solemn seer who leads him by the hand; The tongue unknown, the joy he cannot guess, Blend in one marvel every sound and sight; And in the strangeness doubles the delight. Young AEgle sits within her palace bower, 108 She hears the cymbals clashing from afar-- So Ormuzd's music welcomed in the hour When the sun hasten'd to his morning-star. Smile, Star of Morn--he cometh from above! And twilight melts around the steps of Love. Save the grey Augur (since the unconscious child 109 Sprang to the last kiss of her dying sire) Those eyes by man's rude presence undefiled, Had deepen'd into woman's. As a lyre Hung on unwitness'd boughs, amidst the shade, And but to air her soul its music made. Fair was her prison, wall'd with woven flowers, 110 In a soft isle embraced by softest waters, Linnet and lark the sentries to the towers, And for the guard Etruria's infant daughters; But stronger far than walls, the antique law, And more than hosts, religion's shadowy awe.