The Riders of Babylon

The riders of Babylon clatter forth Like the hawk-winged scourgers of Azrael To the meadow-lands of the South and North And the strong-walled cities of Israel. They harry the men of the caravans, They bring rare plunder across the sands To deck the throne of the great god Baal. But Babylon's king is a broken shell And Babylon's queen is a sprite from Hell; And men shall say, "Here Babylon fell," Ere Time has forgot the tale. The riders of Babylon come and go From Gaza's halls to the shores of Tyre; They shake the world from the lands of snow To the deserts, red in the sunset's fire; Their horses swim in a sea of gore And the tribes of the earth bow down before; They have chained the seas where the Cretans sail. But Babylon's sun shall set in blood; Her towers shall sink in a crimson flood; And men shall say, "Here Babylon stood," Ere Time forgot the tale.