Suppliant they prayed to stand,

As erst they stood, when Rome was in her pride;
The trophies of her glory at her side,

Her sceptre in her hand

But thou to dogs the spoils of worlds hast thrown, And mock'st man's search to know, where nothing can be known!

While this proud arch, that rears

Its well-formed limbs in pristine loveliness,
Thou spar'st, amid the marble wilderness,
To point at Judah's tears,

And mock her fettered form, slow sweeping by,
With veiled horn of pride beneath the conqueror's eye.

The streams of ages flow,

And still the victor-train in stately march,
With prancing coursers, threads the marble arch,
And still the captives go,

Bearing on high the seven-branched lamp divine,
And all that Zion graced-the joy of PALEStine.

Where is the hand that sealed

Death to the king on Babel's blazing wall,
When with the sacred spoils he graced his hall,
His insolence his shield,

And met the judge?—yet thou, presumptuous Rome!
Hast wrought Belshazzar's sin without Belshazzar's doom.

Doth God then cease to care,

Tho' men the temple of His love profane,
Weighing His precious things as worldly gain,-
And, in their madness, dare

Go where, 'mid cherubs veiled, He deigns abide;
Entering unscathed that hall, where erst who entered died?

Hath He the earth forsworn,

And left his straying flock their way to go,
Themselves to please, where pleasure is but woe;
Objects of Satan's scorn-

Reckless, tho' heathens tread His glory down,

Play with His slumbering bolt, and bask beneath His frown?

Alas! 'twas Israel's crime !

Most loved, she would not love, nor care to own
Him service, yielding it to gods of stone

Of every name and clime—

Till jealous Justice might no longer wait

Boundless the love she spurned, and terrible her fate!

I see her wend along

This stone-paved way, the arch beneath, which stands
I' th' eye of the great Capitol, with lifted hands
To supplicate the throng:

Who scourge her spirit with her Father's rod,

And hurl the stunning taunt: Where now thy country's God!' 1

No arm, no arm appeared

To loose her bonds, or deal the wished-for blow;
She lives - but lives in bitterness of woe,

Blasted and seared

While years sweep on, and empires bloom and fade, Still, still she ceaseless weeps beneath yon palmtree's shade!

She was a pleasant child,2

And love filled high her cup of happiness,
Bidding the nations look how love could bless!

Till, wretched and defiled,

She tore and trampled down her bridal-wreath, And, flushed with demon-lust, wrought out her wage of death.

Then gaze upon her shame,

But gaze and weep-so loved, now so forlorn ;
On earth wide scattered as a thing of scorn,
A proverb and a name;

Her brow deep marked, in characters of fire,

To warn frail man-His love the measure of His ire!

1 Micah vii. 10.

2 Jer. xxxi. 20.

Gaze on her shame, and fear!

For if His own He spared not, in the hour

When Grace, and Love, and Mercy were the dower;
While to His heart most dear

The covenant-seal and oath to the favor'd three,
The fathers of His bride-beware! he spares not thee!1

The leaves, the leaves are cast,

And dry the stock, and shattered by the storm
Yet think not that in vain that withered form
Survived thro' ages past!

As a scathed oak, whose broken trunk, and bare,
The axe disdains, its substance still is there.?

Shook is the olive now,

And full and bloody hath the vintage been-
What else but wrath, when that the seed is sin!
Yet on the topmost bough

And 'mid the desolate stems some fruit appears,
That gives a gleam of hope, and tells of better years. 3

Israel is Israel still!

Beloved, tho' chastened-cherished, tho' distrest!
Yet once again she blooms at His behest,
As on a fruitful hill,

With grace rich teeming, and with glory deckt

-O Thou! fall'n Salem's God! arise for thine elect!

1 Rom. xi. 21.

2 Isa. vi. 13.

3 Isa. xvii. 6.

THE SKY OF ROME.

THE SKY-WHICH IS AS A MOLTEN LOOKING-GLASS.-JOB XXXVII. 18.

OE'R gilded dome and lofty tower,

How burns yon living blue!

Fit canopy for Eden's bower,

When human hearts were true!

On such they gazed-the unfallen pair-
Watching the signs of advent there,

Till wide the heav'n its golden portals spread, Strewing a spangled path for their dear Master's tread.

On such they gazed, 'mid clustering trees

Fired by the western sun;

Nor mourned, as rose the murmuring breeze,

The cool of evening won

Angels, on silvery pinions bright,

Came soaring from th' abodes of light,

From sprites of ill to guard fair Eden's bound,

And bid, with touch of fire, their seraph-strains resound.

E