Is sated with her vapid luxuries.

The nations from afar, enamoured with

The vision of her pomp, have bowed themselves
To basest servitude; and kings have sunk

In utter prostitution at her feet.

But thou art fallen, art fallen!

How hast thou padded round thy ghastly frame,
With all the huge proportions of thy pride,
The grandeur of thy dawnings and thy deeds,
The triumph of thy genius, science, art-

Thy ships on sea; thy harnessed hosts on land;
Conquest, achievement; wealth and luxury ;
Pompous display and glorious ancestry;
Thy long illustrious line of mighty kings;

A great, grand past, strung o'er with proud exploits ;
Thy host of heroes-names of wide renown,
Where mind o'er matter triumphed and achieved
Wide victories, that might raise the wondering blush
To future people who had deemed themselves
More wise as earth was older-in the van,

In the van of all the people-deeming intellect
Progressive as the stately march of time.
These are but feeders of her huge conceit―
But ministers unto her consequence—

But idols which she worships in her heart.
How hast thou decked thee in the gorgeous robes
Of commerce, learning, nationality

The pride of power, of pomp, and ancient fame,
And liftest up thy face to heaven, and wreathed
Thy sensual brow with stars, and proud hast said,
"I sit a queen; all the nations bow before

The glory of my presence, and all lands
Yield up their choicest unto me; I rule
A goddess o'er the petty realms of earth:
I stand a rock, firm as the ages strong,
To overawe the petty frets of time;
To hurl defiance at the ghouls that lurk
With rage malignant round the tattered skirts
Of old departing eras-Change-Decay,
Fate! Desolation! and Oblivion last!!"

LORIOUS Rudyard; gorgeous picture,
How I love to gaze on thee,

Ever fraught wtth sunny memories,
Ever beautiful to me !

Whether blushing Spring enwrap thee
In its robe of virgin pride,
Whether golden Summer steep thee
In its mellow gushing tide;

Whether drooping Autumn flood thee
With its dreamy chastened light,
Whether chilling Winter drape thee
In its vest of spotless white;

Whether storms sweep grandly o'er thee,

Light or gloom their charms impart, Ever grand, sublime, majestic,

Ever beautiful thou art.

And I love to roam in twilight,
From the busy haunts of toil,
From Oppression's galling fetters,
From Deception's soulless smile,

Here to sit and gaze upon thee,
As I gaze upon thee now,
With the balmy zephyr playing
On my hot and aching brow.

How sublimely grand the picture
Stretching out before my gaze;
Deluged with the glowing splendour
Of the sun's declining rays,

Lies the lake in tranquil beauty,
Like a model mimic sea,
Like a brightly polished mirror,
In a frame of ebony;

Like a flood of molten silver,

Froth of gold and sapphire dipped,

Flashing back the efflorescence

Of the summer's blazing light.

And away, far up the valley,

Rising from the sunlit tide,

Towering hills in stately grandeur,
Bound the view on either side,

Turning, twisting, undulating,

Sinking low or peaking high, Throwing up a jaggy outline,

Quaintly cut against the sky.

Bulging mounds and blocks of granite Rise in beauty all around,

Lichen grown, and moss enamelled,

Ivy wreathed, and bilberry crowned.

Rugged cliffs of mouldering sandstone
Break abruptly here and there,
Like a patch of coarsest fustian
On a robe of beauty rare;

In whose fossil-bedded strata,
Like an ancient crypt unsealed,
Lies the bloom of bygone ages,
To the curious eye revealed,

Seeming placed to point this moral
To the thoughtless and the gay,
All that's fair must fade and perish,
All that's beautiful, decay.

And above and all around me
Stalwart trees bedeck the scene,
Tendril-twined and ivy-mantled,
All enrobed in richest sheen ;