COMMERCE.
Harp of the sea! bold minstrel of the deep!
Sound from your halls where proud armadas sleep;
Ring from the waves a strain of other days,
When first rude Commerce poured her feeble rays;
Tell what rich burdens India's princes bore
Of balmy spices to the Arab's shore;
What mines of wealth on Traffic's dauntless wings
Sailed down from Egypt to the Syrian kings;
By what mischance, those wonders of their hour,
The fleets of Carthage, and the Tyrian power,
Were lost, and vanished like the meteor ray
That flashes nightly through the milky-way:
Sound from your halls where proud armadas sleep;
Ring from the waves a strain of other days,
When first rude Commerce poured her feeble rays;
Tell what rich burdens India's princes bore
Of balmy spices to the Arab's shore;
What mines of wealth on Traffic's dauntless wings
Sailed down from Egypt to the Syrian kings;
By what mischance, those wonders of their hour,
The fleets of Carthage, and the Tyrian power,
Were lost, and vanished like the meteor ray
That flashes nightly through the milky-way:
