In ages past, when smit with warmth sublime,Their bards foretold the dark events of time,And piercing forward through the mystic shade,Kings yet to come, and chiefs unborn survey'd,Amittai's son perceiv'd, among the rest,The mighty flame usurp his labouring breast:—For this, in dreams, the voice unerring cameOf Him, who lives through every age the same:"Arise !...