53. 
Her voice was as a mountain stream which sweeps
The withered leaves of Autumn to the lake,
And in some deep and narrow bay then sleeps
In the shadow of the shores; as dead leaves wake,
Under the wave, in flowers and herbs which make 2285
Those green depths beautiful when skies are blue,
The multitude so moveless did partake
Such living change, and kindling murmurs flew
As o’er that speechless calm delight and wonder grew.

54. 
Over the plain the throngs were scattered then 2290
In groups around the fires, which from the sea
Even to the gorge of the first mountain-glen
Blazed wide and far:  the banquet of the free
Was spread beneath many a dark cypress-tree,
Beneath whose spires, which swayed in the red flame, 2295
Reclining, as they ate, of Liberty,
And Hope, and Justice, and Laone’s name,
Earth’s children did a woof of happy converse frame.

55. 
Their feast was such as Earth, the general mother,
Pours from her fairest bosom, when she smiles 2300
In the embrace of Autumn;—­to each other
As when some parent fondly reconciles
Her warring children, she their wrath beguiles
With her own sustenance, they relenting weep: 
Such was this Festival, which from their isles 2305
And continents, and winds, and oceans deep,
All shapes might throng to share, that fly, or walk or creep,—­

56. 
Might share in peace and innocence, for gore
Or poison none this festal did pollute,
But, piled on high, an overflowing store 2310
Of pomegranates and citrons, fairest fruit,
Melons, and dates, and figs, and many a root
Sweet and sustaining, and bright grapes ere yet
Accursed fire their mild juice could transmute
Into a mortal bane, and brown corn set 2315
In baskets; with pure streams their thirsting lips they wet.

57. 
Laone had descended from the shrine,
And every deepest look and holiest mind
Fed on her form, though now those tones divine
Were silent as she passed; she did unwind 2320
Her veil, as with the crowds of her own kind
She mixed; some impulse made my heart refrain
From seeking her that night, so I reclined
Amidst a group, where on the utmost plain
A festal watchfire burned beside the dusky main. 2325

58. 
And joyous was our feast; pathetic talk,
And wit, and harmony of choral strains,
While far Orion o’er the waves did walk
That flow among the isles, held us in chains
Of sweet captivity which none disdains 2330
Who feels; but when his zone grew dim in mist
Which clothes the Ocean’s bosom, o’er the plains
The multitudes went homeward, to their rest,
Which that delightful day with its own shadow blessed.