And the glorious rose with her flushing face,
And the fuschia with her form of grace,
The balsam bright, and the lupin's crest,
That weaves a roof for the firefly's nest;
The myrtle clusters, and dahlia tall,
The jessamine fairest among them all;
And the tremulous lips of the lily's bell,
Join in the music we love so well."
"But startle ye not when the tempests blow?
Have you no dread of a wily foe?
Do you not tremble, when the serpents hiss
Mid leaves that the zephyr alone should kiss?
Lady, the bells of the fainting flowers
Close at the coming of thunder showers;
The branches and tendrils merrily dance
At the whirlwind's cry, and the lightning's glance.
We dread not to see the snake's back of gold?
Dart through the lilacs or marigold,
For fears that dwell in the human breast,
Find in the heart of flowers no rest.
We have no fears when we hear thee pass
Over the fold of the tangled grass,
We have no dread when we hear thee breathe
Over the flowers we love to wreathe,
Nor tremble when night falls from heaven above,
And nature is stillness and earth is love;
We steal from thy keeping when summer is o'er,
And wait thee where flowers can die no more."
The Cities of Old.
Cities and men, and nations, have passed by,
Like leaves upon an autumn's dreary sky;
Like chaff upon the ocean billow proud,
Like drops of rain on summer's fleecy cloud;
Like flowers of a wilderness,
Vanished into forgetfulness.
O! Nineveh, thou city of young Ashur's pride,
With thy strong towers, and thy bulwarks wide;
Ah! while upon thee splashed the Tigris' waters,
How little thought thy wealth-stored sons and daughters,
That Cyaxerses and his troops should wait
Three long years before thy massive gate;
Then Medes and Persians, by the torches' light,
Should ride triumphantly thy streets by night;
And from creation banish thee,
O! Nineveh. O! Nineveh.
And country of the pride of Mizriam's heart,
With pyramids that speak thy wealth and art,
Why is it that no minstrel comes, who sings
Of all the glory of thy shepherd kings?
Tyre, why are thy walls in ruins thus?
Why is thy name so seldom spoke by us?
Sidon, among the nations thou art fled,
Thy joy departed and thy glory dead;
Far gone ere all thy generations,
Fallen nations! Fallen nations!
And Babylon, with all thy thronging bands,
The glory of Chaldea's ancient lands;
Thy temple, where a numerous host was seen,
Thy gardens hung to please the Midian queen;
Where beauteous flowers smiled on their terrace beds,
Proud kings have passed through thee, and crowned heads;
And grandeur and magnificence could view
In thee a resting place--thy stores not few;
Why is it thou art all alone?
O! Babylon. O! Babylon.