THE FALL OF BABYLON.

Rise Mede and conquer! O'er Assyria's land,
With sword of vengeance and an outstretch'd hand
Jehovah guides thee; spread thy banners bright
Like a red meteor on the mountain's height;
Sound the loud clarion; from ten thousand bows
Pour the dark storm of battle on thy foes.
The Lord hath said, and shall it not be done?
-No remnant shall remain of haughty Babylon!
Throned in the tempest, whirlwinds his attire,
Whose voice is thunder, and whose breath is fire ;
His vengeful spirit shall before thee pass

And break thy iron bolts, and bow thy gates of brass.

The prophet spake-but Israel's harp unstrung
By Babel's stream, on willows dank is hung,
Nor deigns to sound, beneath a captive hand,
The song of Sion in a stranger land.

Lordly the banquet, stately was the cheer,

The minstrel's flattery sooth'd the monarch's ear-
"O king, for thee yon glittering planets roll,
Thy footstool earth, thy canopy the pole;
For thee the spirits of the ocean tread
The oozy deep, and search the pearly bed;
Beauty for thee in Ophir's treasure glows,
Beams in the sun, and blushes in the rose;
Thy regal nod yon vaulted skies shall bow,
A king of gods, a deity below."

"A God! a God!" the servile crowds reply,
And echo back the harper's minstrelsy;

From golden bowls they quaff the sparkling wine,
Th' unhallow'd spoil of Israel's plunder'd shrine.
"Fill high the bowls," the daring monarch cries,-
Pride swells his soul and flushes in his eyes-
"For surely these a nobler use afford
To deck our banquet, and adorn our board.
Than vainly bright, the trampled shrines to grace
Of Israel's God, and Israel's feeble race,

How vain his might! their gold his votaries gave
To deck those altars which they could not save."

He spake, but horror seized each trembling guest, Their hair grew stiff, their hearts sunk in their breast: Dim burn'd the lamps, till suddenly a light

Flamed like the bright-hair'd meteor of the night;
Amid the fire a hand was seen to gleam,
Then vanish'd quicker than a midnight dream.
A bloody scroll the livid flame display'd,
And all around was smoke and murky shade.

Mysterious warnings shake the monarch's soul,
His cheeks are bloodless and his eye-balls roll ;-
Fain would he fly-where'er he turns his eyes
The burning characters before him rise;
He hears a voice which none but he can hear,
In sounds terrific, thundering on his ear,-
"Justice and might to Israel's God belong".
And mercy, mercy, falters on his tongue.

"Arise ye priests, Chaldean sages say,
-Whose spells the powers of earth and air obey,-
Whose was the hand that wrote upon the wall
When blazed the red light streaming through the hall?
What voice shall tell? what mortal pow'r reveal

The deed of fate these mystic signs conceal?
His be the prize that awful secret told,-
A robe of purple, and a chain of gold;
Exalted o'er his peers on him shall wait
The pride of empire and the pomp of state."

The white robed Magi tried each potent spell,

To read the wandering stars; and called the aid of Bel;
No spirit answer'd from the mountain's brow,

Spake in the blast, or mutter'd from below.
Despised Israel, from thy tribes shall rise
A man of God, a prophet of the skies;

Elijah's spirit o'er his holy head,

Like dews from Heav'n, her dove-like wings hath spread, Daniel shall speak--to him alone 'tis giv'n,

To read the awful characters of Heav'n.

Thy gift I heed not, King; no chain of gold My neck shall grace, no robe my limbs enfold. Yet will I speak! hast thou so soon forgot Jehovah's vengeance and thy father's lot?

A savage amid savages he lies,

The earth his bed, his coverlet the skies,

Till meek he bends beneath the chast'ning rod,
And owns the righteous judgments of his God.
In contrite grief the Lord beheld him bow,
The arm of mercy warded off the blow;
But thou hast lifted up thy soul in pride,
Thy voice the God of Israel hath defied,
Profaned his vessels, and his shrines o'erthrown,
And bow'd to idol gods and forms of stone.

Know then the Lord hath weigh'd and found thee light.
Destruction rides upon the wings of night,

The storm of vengeance o'er thy head descends,
The God of justice wills and Israel's cause defends.
Thy sway is gone, thy iron sceptre broke,

The golden city stoops beneath the yoke;
The Medean foe her glories shall confound,

And hurl her cloud-capt turrets to the ground."

He spake that warning voice was heard in vain, —
The ear of Kings lists but to flattery's strain;
So with the murmur of each transient blast,
Fools vainly think the mutt'ring tempest past,
Till on the bosom of the night it sweep,
And whelm the shatter'd vessel in the deep.

Hush'd is the night o'er Babylon's high tow'rs,
Bel's golden spires and Ninus' regal bow'rs;
The pallid moon her splendour half conceal'd,
Dim mid the rolling clouds displays her shield,
O'er terrass'd groves with dubious radiance plays,
And pendent gardens glimmer in the rays.

'Tis silence all, save where they still prolong,
In frantic revelry the midnight song;
Regardless still, while wrapp'd in murky glooms,
Destruction broods, and spreads her sable plumes.

Lo! where the silent ministers of fate
Move in dark pomp of military state;
No voice, no sound, so nature seems to pause,
Ere gaping earth extend her opening jaws;
The grave of nations! hushed the pregnant gloom,
The calm of death, the silence of the tomb.

Roll back thy floods, Euphrates, backward fly, The Lord hath spoken-" be thy channels dry." Down the deep bed they move with measur'd stride, -The quiver'd squadrons through the archway glide. Sound an alarm! up, arm thy regal brow,

Grasp the strong buckler, draw the twanging bow.
They come, they come! hark to their brazen wheels!
Hark to their cymbals clash, and clarion's peals!
How shall the son of dalliance take the field?
How shall his nerveless arm the falchion wield?
He falls, the pageant fades and melts away,
Like a slim vision at the break of day.

Take up thy harp, O Israel! wake the strain!
With songs of triumph sweep the strings again.
How art thou fall'n thou radiant son of light!
Whose arm hath hurl'd thee flaming from thy height
And quench'd thy beams in darkness,-ne'er again
To lift the blazing terrors of thy reign

O'er haughty Babylon? Proud queen, thy foe,
Exulting Israel smiles upon thy woe;

No more her sons shall crouch beneath thy feet,
And half the work of vengeance is complete.
The happy day shall come, when desolate, alone,
Deserts thy kingdom, solitude thy throne,
Thou sit'st in sullen grandeur of decay,
And hear'st the tiger wishing for his prey;
The rank grass waves along thy tottering wallls,
The fox looks out amid thy desert halls;
For there no way-worn pilgrim rests his head,
No wandering Arab there his tent shall spread,
But fell hyænas on the travellers scowl,
And grimly pacing to the pale moon howl;

Thy sedge-choaked floods round bending ruins creep,
With sounding wing where herns and bitterns sweep;
And still as time with silent space steals bye,
Crumbled in dust thy ruin mocks the eye.

'Tis gone, 'tis nothing! on the desert land, In curious search I see the traveller stand; He muses long-and is each vestige gone? No remnant left of haughty Babylon ?

HALL

NOCHE SERENA, OR, THE STARLIGHT NIGHT.

(FROM THE SPANISH OF FRAY LUIS DE LEON.)

When I behold yon sky,

With all the unnumber'd lights that gem its steep,

And turn to earth mine eye,
Earth that in silence deep

Lies buried in forgetfulness and sleep.

Within my breast arise

The mingled cares that Love and Sorrow wake,
The fountains of mine eyes

A sad o'erflowing make,

And thus the silence of the night I break.

Oh mansion blest and bright! Temple of beauty purer than the snow! The soul that to thy height

Was born, what fate of woe

Holds prisoned in this dungeon dark and low.

From Truth's unerring line

What deadly error so our minds can wrest,

That of thy good divine

Forgetful, still unblest,

We chase a faithless shade that ne'er can be possest.

Man is immersed in sleep,

Nor of his fate the dread importance feels,

While Heaven in silence deep

Turns on the eternal wheels,

And all the hours of life unnoticed steals.

Oh wake, ye mortals wake!,

Ere by your fatal negligence betray'd;
Behold your souls at stake-

Souls, for such glory made,

Ah! can they live on glitter and on shade?

Above, oh! raise your eyes,

To yon eternal, yon celestial spheres,

And soon will you despise

The vanity and tears

Of Life, with all its hopes and all its fears.