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High on his throne Darius tower'd in pride,
The fair Apame grac'd the Sovereign's side;
And now she smil'd, and now with mimic frown
Plac'd on her brow the Monarch's sacred crown.
In transport o'er her faultless form he bends,
Loves every look, and every act commends.
The fair Apame grac'd the Sovereign's side;
And now she smil'd, and now with mimic frown
Plac'd on her brow the Monarch's sacred crown.
In transport o'er her faultless form he bends,
Loves every look, and every act commends.
And now Darius bids the herald call
Judæa's Bard to grace the thronging hall.
Hush'd is each sound—the attending crowd are mute,
The Hebrew lightly strikes the chearful lute:
Judæa's Bard to grace the thronging hall.
Hush'd is each sound—the attending crowd are mute,
The Hebrew lightly strikes the chearful lute:
When the Traveller on his way,
Who has toil'd the livelong day,
Feels around on every side
The chilly mists of eventide,
Recurs to all he leaves behind;
He thinks upon the well-trimm'd hearth,
The evening hour of social mirth,
Who has toil'd the livelong day,
Feels around on every side
The chilly mists of eventide,
Recurs to all he leaves behind;
He thinks upon the well-trimm'd hearth,
The evening hour of social mirth,
