Page:Our American Holidays - Christmas.djvu/85

And the chill marble seems to sweat,
While each peculiar power foregoes his wonted seat.

Peor and Baälim
Forsake their temples dim
   With that twice-battered God of Palestine;
And moonèd Ashtaroth
Heaven's queen and mother both,
   Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine;
The Libyac Hammon shrinks his horn;
In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.

And sullen Moloch, fled,
Hath left in shadows dread
   His burning idol all of blackest hue:
In vain with cymbals' ring
They call the grisly king,
   In dismal dance about the furnace blue:
The brutish gods of Nile as fast,
Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.

Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian grove or green,
   Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud;
Nor can he be at rest
Within his sacred chest,
   Naught but profoundest hell can be his shroud;