72
SODOM AND GOMORRAH.
For the bride, her handmaiden the garland was wreathing,
At the altar the bridegroom was waiting,
But vengeance impatiently round them was breathing,
And death at that shrine was their greeting.
At the altar the bridegroom was waiting,
But vengeance impatiently round them was breathing,
And death at that shrine was their greeting.
But the wine-cup is empty, and broken it lies,
The lip which it foamed for, is cold;
For the red wing of Death o'er Gomorrah now flies,
And Sodom is wrapped in its fold.
The lip which it foamed for, is cold;
For the red wing of Death o'er Gomorrah now flies,
And Sodom is wrapped in its fold.
The bride is wedded, but the bridegroom is Death,
With his cold, damp, and grave-like hand;
Her pillow is ashes, the slime-weed her wreath,
Heaven's flames are her nuptial band.
With his cold, damp, and grave-like hand;
Her pillow is ashes, the slime-weed her wreath,
Heaven's flames are her nuptial band.
And near to that cold, that desolate sea
Whose fruits are to ashes now turned,
Not a fresh-blown flower, not a budding tree,
Now blooms where those cities were burned.
Whose fruits are to ashes now turned,
Not a fresh-blown flower, not a budding tree,
Now blooms where those cities were burned.
