O’er sleeping realms that yet may wake in war,
Forth from that Brow Discrowned whose high command
Freshens in splendor with the advancing night
Missioned to blot all godless crowns with gloom:—
Like fruits untimely from a tree in blight
Such crowns shall fall. Even now they know their doom!
Advance, pure hearts! Your instinct guides you right
The Bethlehem Crib, this day, is by Saint Peter’s tomb.
II.
THE JERUSALEM OF THE NEW LAW.
“The Tribes ascend.” Ten centuries and nine