Rhode Island American

MISCELLANY

"THE PROPHETICK FALL OF ROME."

[BY MR. SOTHEBY.]

"It comes—th' appointed hour.

Hebrew! beneath the arch of Titus, pause!

And in the closing scenes of Rome's last pow'r

Thy Prophet's roll unfold;

Then view on that eventful theatre,

Where slow-born ages swept like shadows by,

Time, loftier tow'ring, as the woe draws nigh,

'Mid the gigantick wrecks that round him low'r,

From the symbolick image seen of old

Casts back the mantle of obscurity:

And beck'ning on the vengeance of the Lord,

Points out the sign foretold :

"Lo! round Rome's iron feet the dust and ashes roll'd."

So take thou up the harp, that whilon hung

Mute on the willows, as the wave flow'd on

That drank thy tear at Babylon:

And from their graves the shadowy Kings recall,

That mock'd the golden City's fall :

And strain the loudest chords to exultation strung.

Lift up thy voice! The Day-spring from on high

Warns that the hour draws nigh :

The far seas, and the multitudes of isles,

All in their tongues have heard,

Each lisps the living word.

Hebrew! on thee redemption's angel smiles:

The stone cut out without a hand

Now spreads its shade o'er earth, and shall to heav'n expand.

Tell the dispers'd, Kings with their fleets shall come

To bear the wanderers home,

Their Queens shall fold thy nurseling on their breast :

A light o'er earth! shall flow

From Sion's hallow'd brow,

And there the Lord, thy God, enthron'd in glory rest!

Then ask of Rome—Where now the realms whose sway

Had earth their voice obey?

The gold—the silver—and the brazen?—gone—

The mountain falls on Babylon.

Where art thou, Rome! thy second empire o'er?

Gone!, like the chaff from out the summer-threshing floor.—"