And nearer yet the trumpet's voice is swelling,
Loud, shrill, and savage, drowning every cry!
And lo! the spoiler in the regal dwelling,
Death bursting on the halls of revelry!
Ere on their brows one fragile rose-leaf die,
The sword hath rag'd thro' joys devoted train;
Ere one bright star be faded from the sky,
Empire is lost, Belshazzar with the slain,
And the dread lesson given, which proves all others vain.
Fall'n is the golden city! in the dust,
Spoil'd of her crown, dismantled of her state,
She that hath made the strength of towers her trust,
Weeps by her dead, supremely desolate!
She that beheld the nations at her gate,
Thronging in homage, shall be call'd no more
Lady of Kingdoms!—who shall mourn her fate?
Her guilt is full, her march of triumph o'er;
What widow'd land shall now her widowhood deplore?
Sit thou in silence! thou, that wert enthron'd
On many waters! thou, whose augurs read
The language of the planets, and disown'd
The mighty name it blazons!—veil thy head,
