Or foul speculation, no vestige was left. Fraud in buying or selling was wholly unknown; Light weight and short measure had obsolete grown; Heaped high and pressed down and still running over Was the sole rule and practice that I could discover, And, as no long accounts were kept day after day, No bankrupts were heard of--no failures to pay. It seemed as if flying through vast unknown space, At last I had reached some wonderful place, Where sin had not entered to blast and defile Scenes blest at creation by Deity’s smile. Unlike our own earth, since the dawning of Time, Despoiled by oppression or blackened by crime. Rambling on in this deep contemplative mood, Before a vast pile I instinctively stood; High in air rose a dome on which glittered a star, Like a lonely night beacon to wanderers afar, And on it, in lines pure as heaven’s own blue, “The old is now past and all things are new.” I entered--strange forms arrested the eye, Of human inventions in ages gone by; Tools for use--toys for pleasure--weapons of war, Idols, altars and priestly shrines worshipped no more; Here was seen the rude ponderous Chaldean plow, With the crown that adorned Melchizedek’s brow, The first harp that was made by old Tubal Cain, An image of Bel from a Syrian plain, The chariot of Pharoah, by Miriam sung, For ages of silence with Red sea-weed hung, Now placed on the threshold of Dagon’s black shrine Where fell the foul god, smit by vengeance divine; Huge engines found buried in Egypt’s deep sand, No doubt, by the builders of pyramids planned, Jewish hammers once used on the mountains of Tyre Persian censers where glowed perpetual fire, Pagodas from China, of porcelain rare, Gilt, silvered and papered with exquisite care, And the image of gold on Dura’s vast plain Where the furnace of fire was thrice heated in vain. Here, lay the light frame of an Indian canoe, There, a square Roman gallery attracted the view. All these and a thousand more relics of old, In its measureless rooms did the edifice hold. But, greater by far, both in number and cost, Of murderous implements grim war could boast, To cut, maim and mingle the fair human form In private revenge or in battle’s wild storm. In another huge hall lay the rough knotty brand, Still stained as it dropped from Cain’s murderous hand; The spears and the swords of nations of yore, Ere the deluge a vile generation swept o’er. Here stood the old chariots, each wheel with a scythe, Beneath which men prostrate in anguish would writhe, There, ranged as in former stern battle array Shone the armor of brass used in Rome’s warlike day, Helmets, spears, shields, javelins, pikes, swords and slings And the banners, surmounted by eagles’ broad wings. The cross-bows of England and rude culverin