THE monarch held his banquet

To music's pleasant sound,

And the ruddy bowl

That blinds the soul

With the flashing wine was crowned;

And beauty all unlovely

With bright but hollow eye,

In rapture wild

Upon him smiled

In his drunken revelry.

A

14

FALL OF BABYLON.

What ho, what ho, the goblet!
The rosy wine for me;

My father stood

On the field of blood

And what reward hath he?

They circled him with glory-
They called him, mighty Lord!

They bent the knee

His face to see,

And they trembled at his word !—

But where is he, the mighty,

And the glory he hath won?

They have laid him low

With the conquered foe,

Ere half his work was done.

But the joy of the bounding pulse

And the heart that laughs at care,

They are found in the throng

Of the dance and song,

And the monarch's feast to share.

What ho, what ho, the goblet!

It hath held the holy wine;

And prophets of old

Have blessed the gold,

And the gods have made it mine: