He spoke:—the shadows of the things to come
Pass'd o'er his soul:—"O King, elate in pride!
God hath sent forth the writing of thy doom,
The one, the living God, by thee defied!
He, in whose balance earthly lords are tried,
Hath weigh'd, and found thee wanting. 'Tis decreed
The conqueror's hands thy kingdom shall divide,
The stranger to thy throne of power succeed!
There fell a moment's thrilling silence round,
A breathless pause! the hush of hearts that beat
And limbs that quiver:—is there not a sound,
A gathering cry, a tread of hurrying feet?
—'Twas but some echo, in the crowded street,
Of far-heard revelry; the shout, the song.
The measured dance to music wildly sweet,
That speeds the stars their joyous course along;—
Peace yet again!—Hark! steps in tumult flying,
Steeds rushing on, as o'er a battle-field!
The shout of hosts exulting or defying,
The press of multitudes that strive or yield!
T
