Solace the brakes; and ’mid her ancient streets
Tawny, the gleaming and harmonious sea
Makes silvery melody of by-gone days.
Oh, white Enchantment! Ocean-spouse of old!
When thy high battlements and bulging domes,
By sunset purpled, trembled in the wave!
Now o’er thy towers the Lord hath spread His hand,
And as a cottage shalt thou be removed;
Like Nineveh, or cloudy Babylon!
DAVID GRAY.