Page:Poems Cook.djvu/212

Ye skim where the stream parts the orchard-deck'd land,
Ye dance where the foam sweeps the desolate strand;
Beautiful Birds, ye come thickly around,
When the bud's on the branch and the snow's on the ground;
Ye come when the richest of roses flush out,
And ye come when the yellow leaf eddies about!

 

Grey-hair'd pilgrim, thou hast been
Round the chequer'd world, I ween:
Thou hast lived in happy lands,
Where the thriving city stands;
Thou hast travell'd far to see
Where the city used to be;
Chance and change are everywhere,
Riches here and ruins there;
Pilgrim, thou hast gazed on all;
On rising pile and fading wall—
Tell us, saw ye not brave Birds,
 In the crumbled halls of old,
Where Monarchs smiled and rulers' words
 Breathed above the chaliced gold?
Say, who is it now that waits
At the "hundred brazen gates"?
Who is now the great High Priest,
Bending o'er the carrion feast!
Who is now the reigning one
O'er the dust of Babylon?—
It is the Owl with doleful scream,
Waking the Jackal from his dream;
It is the Raven, black and sleek,
With shining claw and sharpen'd beak;
It is the Vulture sitting high,
In mockery of thrones gone by.

Pilgrim, say, what dost thou meet
In busy mart and crowded street?

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