I. 1.
html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }Oppression dies: the City falls:
Behold the bows her golden walls!
Jehovah breaks the Tyrant's rod.
The Son of Wrath, whose ruthless hand
Hurl'd Desolation o'er the land,
Has run his raging race, has clos'd the scene of blood.
Chiefs arm'd around behold their vanquish'd Lord;
Nor spread the seven-fold shield, nor grasp the vengeful sword.
I. 2
Earth sees, and smiles. O'er all the plain,
Peace spreads her olive-scepter'd reign,
And Nature lifts the choral song.
The Fir-trees, on the mountain's head,
Rejoice thro' all their pomp of shade;
The lordly Cedars nod on sacred Lebanon:
Tyrant! they cry, since thy fell force is broke,
Our proud heads pierce the skies, nor fear the Woodman's stroke.
I. 3.
Hell, from her gulph profound,
Rouses at thine approach; and, all around,
Her dreadful notes of preparation sound.
See, at the awful call,
Her shadowy Heroes all,
Ev'n mighty Kings, the heirs of empire wide,
Rising, with solemn state, and flow,
From their fable thrones below,
Meet, and insult thy pride.
What, dost thou join our ghostly train,
A flitting shadow light, and vain?
Where is thy pomp, thy festive throng,
Thy revel dance, and wanton song?
Proud King! Corruption fastens on thy breast;
And calls her crawling brood, and bids them share the feast.
II. 1.
O Lucifer! thou orient Star;
That roll'd the Morning's rosy car,
Refulgent, thro' th'etherial way:
How art thou fall'n, thou Son of Light!
How fall'n from thy meridian height!
Who saidst the distant poles shall hear me, and obey.
High, o'er the stars, my sapphire throne shall glow,
And, as Jehovah's self, my voice the heav'ns shall bow.
II. 2.
He spake, he died: Distain'd with gore,
Beside yon yawning cavern hoar,
See, where his livid corse is laid.
The aged Pilgrim passing by,
Surveys him long with dubious Eye;
And muses on his fate, and shakes his reverend head.
Just heav'ns! is thus thy pride imperial gone?
Is this poor heap of dust the King of Babylon?
II. 3.
Is this the Man, whose nod
Shook kingdoms: whose inexorable rod
Levell'd majestic cities? Where He trod,
Famine pursued, and frown'd;
Earth sigh'd, and, all around,
Saw her fair fields transform'd to desarts dry;
While, at his crouded prison's gate,
Grasping the keys of Fate,
Stood stern Captivity.
Vain Man! behold thy righteous doom;
Behold each neighb'ring monarch's tomb;
The trophied arch, the breathing bust,
The laurel, shades their sacred dust:
While thou, vile Out-cast, on this hostile plain,
Moulder'st, a vulgar corse, amid the vulgar slain.
III. 1.
No trophied arch, no breathing bust,
Shall dignify thy trampled dust:
No laurel flourish o'er thy grave.
For why, proud King, thy ruthless hand
Hurl'd Desolation o'er the land;
And crush'd the subject race, whom kings are born to save:
Eternal Infamy shall blast thy name,
And all thy sons shall share their impious Father's shame.
III. 2.
Rise, purple Slaughter! furious rise;
Unfold the terror of thine eyes;
Dart thy vindictive shafts around:
Let no strange land a shade afford,
No conquer'd Nations call them Lord;
Nor let their cities rise to curse the goodly ground.
For thus Jehovah swears; no Name, no Son,
No remnant, shall remain of haughty Babylon.
III. 3.
Thus faith the righteous Lord:
My Vengeance shall unsheath the flaming sword;
O'er all thy realms my Fury shall be pour'd.
Where yon proud City stood,
I'll spread the stagnant flood;
And there the Bittern in the sedge shall lurk,
Moaning with sullen strain:
While, sweeping o'er the plain,
Destruction ends her work.
Yes, on mine holy mountain's brow,
I'll crush this proud Assyrian foe.
Th' irrevocable word is spoke.
From Judah's neck the galling yoke,
Spontaneous falls, she shines with wonted state;
Thus by myself I swear, and what I swear is Fate.