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BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST.
'Twas night in Babylon: yet many a beam
Of lamps, far-glittering from her domes on high,
Shone, brightly mingling in Euphrates' stream,
With the clear stars of that Chaldean sky,
Whose azure knows no cloud:—each whispered sigh
Of the soft night-breeze through her terrace-bowers,
Bore deepening tones of joy and melody,
O'er an illumined wilderness of flowers;
And the glad city's voice went up from all her towers.
But prouder mirth was in the kingly hall,
Where, 'midst adoring slaves, a gorgeous band!
High at the stately midnight-festival,
Belshazzar sat enthroned—There luxury's hand
