A fearful whisper, scarcely breathing, "Hope!"

[5]

Then louder, as when storms begin to blow,

Gusty and fitful, and the word was "Hope!"

Then, rising like a tempest, swelling high

In vast crescendo, swept the human cry,

And all Hell's thunderous gamut answered "Hope!"

V.

The shouts ceased, and the exultation died

Slowly into a sort of empty wail,

Half hope and half despair, for still the sign

Had not yet blazed upon their eager eyes.

Then as I sat in wondering agony,

Praying, yet fearing, for the greatest cause

That ever souls of men in balance set

'Gainst everlasting doom, there rose again

The voice of their great leader, Lucifer,

The rebel angel, and outcast of God:

"Lo, hosts of Hell," he cried, "inheritors

Of death diurnal, strangely mingled with

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