And with that faith was conquest. He whose name
To Judah’s harp of prophecy had rung—
He, of whose yet unborn and distant fame
The mighty voice of Inspiration sung,
He came, the victor Cyrus! As he pass’d,
Thrones to his footstep rock’d, and monarchs lay
Suppliant and clothed with dust; while nations cast
Their ancient idols down before his way,
Who in majestic march, from shore to shore,
The quenchless flame revered by Persia’s children bore.