Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Asia: Vols. XXI–XXIII. 1876–79.
Babylon
By Robert Southey (1774–1843)T
Yet wore one dusky hue;
The cranes upon the mosque
Kept their night-clatter still,
When through the gate the early traveller passed.
And when, at evening, o’er the swampy plain
The bittern’s boom came far,
Distinct in darkness seen
Above the low horizon’s lingering light,
Rose the near ruins of old Babylon.
Looked down on swarming myriads; once she flung
Her arches o’er Euphrates’ conquered tide,
And through her brazen portals when she poured
Her armies forth, the distant nations looked
As men who watch the thunder-cloud in fear,
Lest it should burst above them. She was fallen!
The Queen of cities, Babylon, was fallen!
Low lay her bulwarks; the black scorpion basked
In the palace-courts; within the sanctuary
The she-wolf hid her whelps.
Is yonder huge and shapeless heap, what once
Hath been the aerial gardens, height on height
Rising like Media’s mountains crowned with wood,
Work of imperial dotage? Where the fame
Of Belus? Where the Golden Image now,
Which at the sound of dulcimer and lute,
Cornet and sackbut, harp and psaltery,
The Assyrian slaves adored?
A labyrinth of ruins, Babylon
Spreads o’er the blasted plain;
The wandering Arab never sets his tent
Within her walls; the shepherd eyes afar
Her evil towers, and devious drives his flock.
Alone unchanged, a free and bridgeless tide,
Euphrates rolls along,
Eternal nature’s work.