XXX.
The towered City loves thee well,
Strong Tower of David's House! In thee
She hails the unvanquished citadel
That frowns o'er Error's subject sea.
With magic might that Tower repels
A host that breaks where foe is none,—
No foe but statued Saints in cells
High-ranged, and smiling in the sun.
There stands Augustin; Leo there;
And Bernard, with a maiden face
Like John's; and, strong at once and fair,
That Spirit-Pythian, Athanase.
Upon thy star-surrounded height
God's angel keepeth watch and ward;
And sunrise flashes thence ere night
Hath left dark street and dewy sward.