26
ISAIAH, CHAP. XIV. PARAPHRASED.
"Observant of thy brow; nor hireling quires,
"Attemp'ring to the harp their warbled airs, 25
"Thy panegyric chant: but, hush'd in death,
"Like us thou ly'st unwept; a corse obscene
"With dust, and preying worms, bare and despoil'd
"Of ill-got pomp. We hail thee our compeer!"
How art thou with diminish'd glory fall'n 30
From thy proud zenith, swift as meteors glide
Aslope a summer-eve! of all the stars
Titled the first and fairest, thou didst hope
To share divinity, or haply more,
Elated as supreme, when o'er the North 35
Thy bloody banners stream'd, to rightful kings
Portending ruinous downfal: wondrous low,
Opprobrious and detested art thou thrown,
Disrob'd of all thy splendours: round thee stand
The swarming populace, and with fix'd regard 40
Eyeing thee pale and breathless, spend their rage
In taunting speech, and jovial ask their friends,
"Is this The Mighty, whose imperious yoke
"We bore reluctant, who to desert wilds
"And haunts of savages transform'd the marts, 45
"And capital cities raz'd, pronouncing thrall
"Or exile on the peerage? how becalm'd
"The tyrant lies, whose nostrils us'd to breathe
"Tempests of wrath, and shook establish'd thrones!"
In solemn state the bones of pious kings, 50
Gather'd to their great fires, are safe repos'd
"Attemp'ring to the harp their warbled airs, 25
"Thy panegyric chant: but, hush'd in death,
"Like us thou ly'st unwept; a corse obscene
"With dust, and preying worms, bare and despoil'd
"Of ill-got pomp. We hail thee our compeer!"
How art thou with diminish'd glory fall'n 30
From thy proud zenith, swift as meteors glide
Aslope a summer-eve! of all the stars
Titled the first and fairest, thou didst hope
To share divinity, or haply more,
Elated as supreme, when o'er the North 35
Thy bloody banners stream'd, to rightful kings
Portending ruinous downfal: wondrous low,
Opprobrious and detested art thou thrown,
Disrob'd of all thy splendours: round thee stand
The swarming populace, and with fix'd regard 40
Eyeing thee pale and breathless, spend their rage
In taunting speech, and jovial ask their friends,
"Is this The Mighty, whose imperious yoke
"We bore reluctant, who to desert wilds
"And haunts of savages transform'd the marts, 45
"And capital cities raz'd, pronouncing thrall
"Or exile on the peerage? how becalm'd
"The tyrant lies, whose nostrils us'd to breathe
"Tempests of wrath, and shook establish'd thrones!"
In solemn state the bones of pious kings, 50
Gather'd to their great fires, are safe repos'd
