FALL OF BABYLON.

Then fill to the foaming brim;
Oh, the cup is only blest

When the dewy lip

Of the fair doth sip

As we lean on her snowy breast.

He raised the goblet high,

And the foaming juice ran o'er;

And ever the bout

Of the frantic rout

Did shake the marble floor.

The matron rent her veil

As she tossed the beady wine,

And even the queen

To drink was seen With the reeling concubine.

What ho, what ho, the goblet!

He grasps it in his hands—

What ails the king

While the minstrels sing,

And the wine untasted stands?

He hath dashed his jewelled crown,
He hath rent his golden pall,

For a finger dark

On the wall doth mark,

And an earthquake rocks the hall.

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Now fetch me my magicians,
Bid them hither haste with speed,
For a kingly state

Upon him doth wait

That the deadly scroll shall read.

They have looked upon the scroll;

But word said never a breath,

Till stern and loud

To the frightened crowd

Spoke the voice of the Seer of Death.

FALL OF BABYLON.

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Thou has pledged me a kingdom-hast offered a throne;
To-morrow, oh king, thou shalt seek for thine own;
And the daughters of Ashur shall wail in the cry,
That the widows of Judah have sent to the sky.

Thou hast wasted the altar, and trod, in thy pride,
On the ark for which princes and prophets have died;
And the priest's hallowed rose, and the gem and the shrine,
Thou hast cursed with the drunken pollution of wine.

For this thou art weighed, and thy balance is light;
And the hand of the Lord hath condemned thee to-night!
Lo, the sentence of wrath that his finger hath wrote;
Lo, the sword of the conqueror gleams at thy throat,
And the Mede and the Persian shall sit in thy place,
When Jehovah has scattered the house of thy race.

Now crown the prophet straight;

He hath read the scroll aright,
And chance may be,

That I and ye

Shall perish here to-night.

But bid the banquet on,

To the gods we leave the rest,

For fear, at least,

At the monarch's feast,

Were a most unseemly guest.

B

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FALL OF BABYLON.

Flows the wine, and swells the revel
Still in Bela's house of pride:
Hark the cry! 'tis but Euphrates,
Chiding with his rushing tide.

Live, Belshazzar! night is waning,
Safety with the morning beams!
Where is now the boding prophet?
Where the terror of his dreams?

Crown the goblet! let it circle;
Live, Belshazzar, king of men!
Hark! the murmur of the waters
Bursts upon the night again!

Morn is breaking! lo, the summit
Kindles with his coming ray!

Brighter, clearer, now it flashes,

Bursting into sudden day.

'Tis not morning; darkness hovers

O'er the firmament afar;

Babylon, to death devoted,

Lightens with the blaze of war.

Arm we then! the blood of Ninus,
'Gainst the Persian, sword to sword!

FALL OF BABYLON.

'Tis not Persian triumphs o'er theeBut the vengeance of the Lord.

"Yet the bridges! broad Euphrates,
Still protects us from the foe!"
"God hath struck the mighty river,

And its billows cease to flow."

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