Page:Moral Pieces in Prose and Verse.pdf/57

 To feed the wasting lamp of dim despair, And helpless innocence, with fainting breath, Fell weak and tortur'd in the arms of death.

Long, his dire arm the humbled nations sway'd, And sceptred kings a fearful homage paid; Harsh on the neck, the yoke of bondage prest, The belt of iron bound the throbbing breast, The smitten spirit sunk to rise no more, And nature trembled at the load she bore.

But while the monster, with infernal sport, Held the dark revels of his blood-stain'd court, A heavenly ray with quick effulgence stream'd Through those drear cells where light had never beam'd; He heard the bursting bars, the captives free, The breaking chain, the shout of liberty, Saw thro' his grate a form of heavenly birth, Light with soft step upon the grateful earth; In frantic rage his blood-shot eyes he roll'd, His inward pangs his changing features told; His champions fled, his guards forsook their place, His mighty temple trembled to its base, Its cleaving arch received the sweeping blast, Its mouldering columns fell in ruin vast, Loud yell'd the fiend, with hopeless fury fir'd, And as his fabric sunk, his pow'r expir'd.