  Whither away, ye argosies of Heaven, In solemn state advancing from afar? What mission marshals you? What chivalrous emprise Darkens the glory of the sapphire skies? Say, was your empire’s ancient quiet riven With rumor ominous of distant wrong and war? Or speed ye forth with snowy sails unfurled, And radiant pennons shimmering in the haze, To bring with proper pomp, to his empyreal throne, Your monarch with his bride? he loveth her alone, Dear daughter of the Sun, the peerless virgin world, Long cloistered in his bosom’s brightest rays. ******* No answer but a deeper shadow cast,— And lo! the splendid mystery is passed.
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