Babylon

THOU glory of a thousand kings,

Proud daughter of the East!

That dwellest as on sea-birds’ wings,

Upon Euphrates’ breast;

As lofty as thy pride of old,

So deep shall be thy doom;

Thy wealth is fled, thy days are told,

Awake! thine end is come!

A sound of war is in the lands!

A sword is on thy host!

Thy princes and their mighty bands—

The Lord shall mock their boast!

His Hand has rein’d the rushing steed,

And quell’d the rage of war;

Shall stay the flying lance’s speed

And burn the whirling car.

Set ye the standard in the lands;

The Lord of Hosts hath said,

Bid trumpets rouse the distant bands

Of Persia and the Mede;

The bucklers bring, make bright the dart,

I lead thee forth to war,

To burst the gates of brass apart

And break the iron bar!

The spoiler’s hand is come upon

Thy valiant men of might,

Their lion hearts, proud Babylon,

Have failed thee in the fight;

Thy cities are all desolate,

Thy lofty gates shall fall,

The hand that wrought Gomorrah’s fate

Shall crush thy mighty wall.

The shepherd shall not fold his flocks

Upon the desert plain,

But, lurking in thy cavern’d rocks,

The forest beast shall reign.

Fair Babylon, Lost Babylon!

Sit in the dust and mourn,

Hurled headlong from thy lofty throne—

Forgotten and forlorn!