The Danube's rushing billows haste
With the black ocean-wave to hide—
Yet is my startling story traced,
In every murmur of its tide.
The pyramid on Giseh's plain,
Its founder's fame hath long forgot—
But from its memory, time, in vain
Shall strive Napoleon's name to blot.
The bannered storm that floats the sky,
With God's red quiver in its fold,