Ah! who can tell how oft at eventide, When the gay west was blushing like a bride, Fair Eve hath whispered in her children's ear, "Beyond yon cloud will Eden reappear!" And thus, as slow millenniums rolled away, Each generation, ere it turned to clay, Has with prophetic lore, by nature blest, In search of Eden wandered to the West. I cast my thoughts far up the stream of time, And catch its murmurs in my careless rhyme. I hear a footstep tripping o'er the down: Behold! 'tis Athens, in her violet crown. In fancy now her splendors reappear; Her fleets and phalanxes, her shield and spear; Her battle-fields, blest ever by the free,-- Proud Marathon, and sad Thermopylæ! Her poet, foremost in the ranks of fame, Homer! a god--but with a mortal's name; Historians, richest in primeval lore; Orations, sounding yet from shore to shore! Heroes and statesmen throng the enraptured gaze, Till glory totters 'neath her load of praise. Surely a clime so rich in old renown Could build an Eden, if not woo one down! Lo! Plato comes, with wisdom's scroll unfurl'd, The proudest gift of Athens to the world! Wisest of mortals, say, for thou can'st tell, Thou, whose sweet lips the Muses loved so well, Was Greece the Garden that our fathers trod; When men, like angels, walked the earth with God? "Alas!" the great Philosopher replied, "Though I love Athens better than a bride, Her laws are bloody and her children slaves; Her sages slumber in empoisoned graves; Her soil is sterile, barren are her seas; Eden still blooms in the Hesperides, Beyond the pillars of far Hercules! Westward, amid the ocean's blandest smile, Atlantis blossoms, a perennial Isle; A vast Republic stretching far and wide, Greater than Greece and Macedon beside!" The vision fades. Across the mental screen A mightier spirit stalks upon the scene; His tread shakes empires ancient as the sun; His voice resounds, and nations are undone; War in his tone and battle in his eye, The world in arms, a Roman dare defy! Throned on the summit of the seven hills, He bathes his gory heel in Tiber's rills; Stretches his arms across a triple zone, And dares be master of mankind, alone! All peoples send their tribute to his store; Wherever rivers glide or surges roar, Or mountains rise or desert plains expand, His minions sack and pillage every land. But not alone for rapine and for war The Roman eagle spreads his pinions far; He bears a sceptre in his talons strong, To guard the right, to rectify the wrong, And carries high, in his imperial beak, A shield armored to protect the weak. Justice and law are dropping from his wing, Equal alike for consul, serf or king; Daggers for tyrants, for patriot-heroes fame, Attend like menials on the Roman name!