The Botanic Garden, a Poem in Two Parts. Part 1: the Economy of VegetationDarwin, Erasmus
History
The Botanic Garden, a Poem in Two Parts. Part 1: the Economy of Vegetation
Darwin, Erasmus
Natural history; Plants -- Poetry; Portland Vase
VIII. "SYLPHS! YOUR bold hosts, when Heaven with justice dread
Calls the red tempest round the guilty head,
265 Fierce at his nod assume vindictive forms,
And launch from airy cars the vollied storms.--
From Ashur's vales when proud SENACHERIB trod,
Pour'd his swoln heart, defied the living GOD,
Urged with incessant shouts his glittering powers;
270 And JUDAH shook through all her massy towers;
Round her sad altars press'd the prostrate crowd,
Hosts beat their breasts, and suppliant chieftains bow'd;
Loud shrieks of matrons thrill'd the troubled air,
And trembling virgins rent their scatter'd hair;
275 High in the midst the kneeling King adored,
Spread the blaspheming scroll before the Lord,
Raised his pale hands, and breathed his pausing sighs,
And fixed on Heaven his dim imploring eyes,--
"Oh! MIGHTY GOD! amidst thy Seraph-throng
280 "Who sit'st sublime, the Judge of Right and Wrong;
"Thine the wide earth, bright sun, and starry zone,
"That twinkling journey round thy golden throne;
"Thine is the crystal source of life and light,
"And thine the realms of Death's eternal night.
285 "Oh, bend thine ear, thy gracious eye incline,
"Lo! Ashur's King blasphemes thy holy shrine,
"Insults our offerings, and derides our vows,---
"Oh! strike the diadem from his impious brows,
"Tear from his murderous hand the bloody rod,
290 "And teach the trembling nations, "THOU ART GOD!"--
--SYLPHS! in what dread array with pennons broad
Onward ye floated o'er the ethereal road,
Call'd each dank steam the reeking marsh exhales,
Contagious vapours, and volcanic gales,
295 Gave the soft South with poisonous breath to blow,
And rolled the dreadful whirlwind on the foe!--
Hark! o'er the camp the venom'd tempest sings,
Man falls on Man, on buckler buckler rings;
Groan answers groan, to anguish anguish yields,
300 And DEATH'S loud accents shake the tented fields!
--High rears the Fiend his grinning jaws, and wide
Spans the pale nations with colossal stride,
Waves his broad falchion with uplifted hand,
And his vast shadow darkens all the land.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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