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LIA FAIL.
'Twas pillow for the weary head
At Bethel on the night
When Jacob's raptured vision saw
The ladder crowned with light.
A thousand years passed o'er it
In many climes and lands—
The throne of savage princes,
Who ruled their heathen bands.
Ere the Assyrian hosts were shattered,
Sleeping all the sleep of death,
Smitten in their battle harness,
Blasted by the angel's breath;
Ere the star of Rome had risen
Glorious after many wars,
Ere she first was led to battle
By the wolf-nursed son of Mars;
The southern breeze blew softly,
And filled the Spanish sail,
