it was only at intervals—in moments of intense excitement—that

Some started on their feet; some also shouted;

Some wept, some wail'd, all bow'd with reverence;

And Ops, uplifting her black folded veil,

Show'd her pale cheeks, and all her forehead wan,

Her eye-brows thin and jet, and hollow eyes.

There is a roaring in the bleak-grown pines

When Winter lifts his voice; there is a noise

Among immortals when a God gives sign,