Could rouse or paralyse the land—
Though gold and pomp were his, and more,
For God he spurned the glittering gem,
And cast him prostrate all before
Thy gates, Jerusalem!
Even from the Mount of Olives now,
When morning lifts her shadowy veil,
And smiles o’er Moab’s lofty brow,
And beauteous Jordan’s stream and vale,
The ruins o’er the region spread,