Yet grievous here below

And manifold Man's woe;

Though he can stay the flood and bind the waters,

His hand he shall not stay

That bids him sack and slay

And turn the waving fields to fields of slaughters;

And, as he reaps War's harvest grim and gory,

Commits a thousand crimes and calls it glory.

Vast empires fall and rise,

As when in sunset skies

The monumental clouds lift flashing towers

With turrets, spires, and bars

Lit by confederate stars

Till the bright rack dissolves in flying showers:

Kingdoms on kingdoms have their fleeting day,

Dazzle the conquered world, and pass away.

In golden Morning lands

The blazing crowns change hands,

From mystic Ind to fleshly Babylon,

[29]

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