He, in whose balance earthly lords are tried,

Hath weighed, and found thee wanting. 'Tis decreed

The conqueror's hands thy kingdom shall divide,

The stranger to thy throne of power succeed!

Thy days are full; they come,-the Persian and the Mede!"

There fell a moment's thrilling silence round
A breathless pause! the hush of hearts that beat
And limbs that quiver :-Is there not a sound,
A gathering cry, a tread of hurrying feet?
-'Twas but some echo, in the crowded street,
Of far-heard revelry; the shout, the song,
The measured dance to music wildly sweet,
That speeds the stars their joyous course along ;-
Away! nor let a dream disturb the festal throng!

Peace yet again!-Hark! steps in tumult flying,
Steeds rushing on, as o'er a battle-field!
The shouts of hosts exulting or defying,

The press of multitudes that strive or yield!

And the loud startling clash of spear and shield,

Sudden as earthquake's burst !—and, blent with these, The last wild shriek of those whose doom is sealed In their full mirth!—all deepening on the breeze, As the long stormy roll of far-advancing seas!

And nearer yet the trumpet's blast is swelling,
Loud, shrill, and savage, drowning every cry!
And lo the spoiler in the regal dwelling,
Death bursting on the halls of revelry!

Ere on their brows one fragile rose-leaf die

The sword hath raged through joy's devoted train ; Ere one bright star be faded from the sky,

Red flames, like banners, wave from dome and fane; Empire is lost and won,-Belshazzar with the slain.

THE WISH.

COME to me, when my soul

Hath but a few dim hours to linger here;

When earthly chains are as a shrivell'd scroll, Oh! let me feel thy presence! be but near!

That I may look once more

Into thine eyes, which never changed for me; That I may speak to thee of that bright shore Where, with our treasure, we have longed to be.

Thou friend of many days!

Of sadness and of joy, of home and hearth!
Will not thy spirit aid me then to raise

The trembling pinions of my hope from earth?

By every solemn thought

Which on our hearts hath sunk in days gone by,

From the deep voices of the mountains caught, Or all th' adoring silence of the sky;

By every solemn theme

Wherein, in low-toned reverence we have spoken
By our communion in each fervent dream
That sought from realms beyond the grave a token;

And by our tears for those

Whose loss hath touch'd our world with hues of death; And by the hopes that with their dust repose, As flowers await the south-wind's vernal breath:

Come to me in that day—

The one-the sever'd from all days-O friend!

Even then, if human thought may then have sway, My soul with thine shall yet rejoice to blend.

Nor then, nor there alone:

I ask my heart if all indeed must die;

All that of holiest feelings it hath known? And my heart's voice replies—Eternity!