In this fair frame to stand for ever,
So join’d, that them no power can sever.
Drummond.
The signs are full, and never shall the sun
Shine on the cedar roofs of Salem more:
Her tale of splendour now is done;
Her wine-cup of festivity is spilt,
And all is o’er—her grandeur and her guilt.
Oh, fair and favoured city, where of old,
The balmy airs were rich with melody,