THE monarch held his banquet To music's pleasant sound, And the ruddy bowl That blinds the soul With the flashing wine was crowned; And beauty all unlovely With bright but hollow eye, In rapture wild Upon him smiled In his drunken revelry. A 14 FALL OF BABYLON. What ho, what ho, the goblet! The rosy wine for me; My father stood On the field of blood And what reward hath he? His face to see, And they trembled at his word!— But where is he, the mighty, And the glory he hath won?——— They have laid him low With the conquered foe, Ere half his work was done. But the joy of the bounding pulse And the heart that laughs at care, They are found in the throng Of the dance and song, And the monarch's feast to share. What ho, what ho, the goblet! It hath held the holy wine; And prophets of old Have blessed the gold, And the gods have made it mine: |