As I gaze on the girl of my love, My ravishing, radiant one, There seems to shower light from above, And I look for the summer-time sun. What is it that dazzles my sight, That rivals the roseate skies? What is it, my Love, but the light,-- The light of your beautiful eyes? BABYLON. Thou art mighty, Babylon! Thou art haughty, Babylon! Haughty, mighty, Babylon! Through thy streets the bats shall fly, O'er thy ruins owls shall cry, All thy chivalry shall die, Babylon! Golden-godded Babylon! Idol-cursed Babylon! Idol-cursed, golden-godded, Babylon! All thy gods shall bite the dust, All thy golden godlets must Sink to rottenness and rust, Babylon! Thou art royal, Babylon! Thou art ancient, Babylon! Ancient, royal, Babylon! Royal laws and ancient lies Vanish when the people rise, Truth must live, but Falsehood dies, Babylon! Thou art sensual, Babylon! Thou art sotted, Babylon! Sotted, sensual, Babylon! History this tale will tell, To the righteous all is well; Daniel rose, Belshazzar fell, Babylon! Thou art bloody, Babylon! Thou art cruel, Babylon! Cruel, bloody, Babylon! Cain's curse on your brow is set, Bloodstains God will not forget, And His curse pursues you yet, Babylon! Thou art crumbled, Babylon! Thou art humbled, Babylon! Humbled, crumbled, Babylon! Vengeance leaves no gated wall, Vengeance leaves no gilded hall, Vengeance blasts and buries all, Babylon! THE BRITISH GYP. That luscious lip, the British Gyp, I leave to rove, a reckless ranger, To seek a life, with War for wife, Defying Death, despising danger; Yet while I speed from field to field, Enamored of the stranger's daughter, I know the best that earth can yield Are nested by the British water. Her lithe, blithe form outbraves the storm That spreads disaster in its shadow, And when it clears, her form appears A flower upon the greening meadow; And if, for fame, you'll have me name The land of most bewitching daughters, My heart replies, with softening sighs, The land begirt by British waters. Her starry eye lets arrows fly, That pierce the ice of arctic reason; The kiss that thrills, the glance that kills, Make wild the wise and laugh at Treason; And when, a soldier on parade, Beyond the bourne of British waters, My eyes are on the stranger maid, My heart is with the English daughters. DEATH SONG OF THE ENFANTS PERDUS. 'Tis here we invade the valley, Away from the realms of breath, And, in most successful sally, We enter the gates of death; So, stand in the last line steady, 'Tis here our true glory lies; Hurrah for the dead already! Three cheers for the next who dies!