POETRY.

THE VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.

AN ODE.

I.

THE lamps are bright in Babel's tower,
Belshazzar feasts in pride of power.
On golden throne,

Clothed in his grandeur, haughty and alone,
He sits in state.

Around him wait

A thousand Satraps in their crested pride;
And, nearer seen, his lovely queen
Wears the dread splendours of a monarch's bride.

II.

Of molten gold, the pillars hold

A dome begemm'd with stones of price,

And handiwork of rare device.

The banquet glitters on the board,
Inviting its voluptuous lord;
Young beauty smiles,

Queen of hearts and witching wiles;
And mantling shine the cups of wine,
Wak'ning, as their drops they quaff,
Hearts that dance, and eyes that laugh;
And wild and loud the minstrel throng
The proud carousal cheer with harp and song."

VI.

"Who comes, in his glory, from Babylon's waters,
Devouring the earth in the wrath of his slaughters?
Who comes, like the sun, in the joy of the morn,
His blood-reeking banners by victory borne ?

In the strength of his shields, the Assyrian comes down,
The earth, with her rivers and mountains, his own.
He comes, like a giant refresh'd with new wine,
Exulting in strength, while his men of war shine.
In the pride of his heart to the fight he advances,
The wilderness flames with the gleam of his lances;
The son of the forest, with howling affright,
Starts from the blaze to the darkness of night.
Like the roaring of waters, like bellowing of storm,
Like dark rolling clouds, to the combat they form;
And hurling their foes to the torrents of hell,
Triumphing sing to the glory of Bel."

VII.

"Look to the king! look to the lord!
Starting from the banquet board."
Pale, and motionless, as monumental stone,
The cold flesh quivers on the bone.
The sparkless eye upon the wall is raised,
There rivetted-it gazes glazed.
What can Assyria's greatness thus appall?
A sever'd hand is moving on that wall-
A sever'd hand, in deep mysterious gloom,
Traces the characters of doom.

O'er all that gorgeous room,

'Tis the deep hush of terror-and the breath
Already owns the chilling touch of death.
Chaldea's Seers, aghast,

Confess their science past.
Those characters remain
Belshazzar's bane!

VIII.

The hoary Hebrew came, Upon his lips the prophet's flame Burning in brightness.

pace,

His form is feeble, slow his
Wild ringlets shade his aged face,
Reverend in whiteness.

He saw, he read, he spoke ;

And all delirious, from his quiet broke.
As the arrow from the bow,
As the fish that flies the foe,
As the gush of Horeb flow'd,
As the lightning from the cloud,
Starts he to life,

Convulsive with prophetic strife.
His eye, where Âge her film had drawn,
Flashes the flame of its glances;

His old, worn form, all animated shone,
Kindled and wild he advances;