A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter

1'008 U~ CBA.aACTBR 1 .U:D MlSC&LLAli.IOtJB. 377

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Is it oome 1 they said on the banks of Nile,

Who look'd for the world's long-promised day,

And saw but the strife of Egypt's toil,

With the desert's sands and the granite grey.

From pyr~~.mid, temple, and treasured dead,

We vainly ask for her wisdom'a plan;

They t ell of the slave and tyrant'& dread-

Yet there was hope when that day began.

The Ohaldee came with his atnrry lore,

That built up .Babylon's crown and creed;

Alld briek~t Wt~re atamp'd on th"e Tigris shore

With eigne which our sages scarce can r ead.

From Ninua' temple and Nimrod'a tower

The rule of the old East's empire apread

Unreaaouing faith and uuqueation'd power--

But atill-Ia it eome1 the watcher said.

The ligllt of the Persian's worahipp'd ilame
On &ncient bondage We splendour threw;
And once on the West a aunt·iae came,
When Greece to her Freedom's trust was true.
With dreams to the utmost agee denr,
With humnn gods and with godlike wen,
No marvel the far-oft' day aeem'd near
To eyes that look'd through her laurels then.
The Roman conquer'd and revell'd, too,
Till honour and faith and power were gone ;
And deeper old Europe's da.rk.neaa grew,
A.a wave after wave the Got!> came on.
The gown was leaming, the award wa.e l&w,
The people served in the oxen'satead;
But eTer some gleam the watcher aaw,
.And et'ermor&--Is it come 7 they aaid.
P oet and seer that question caught
Above the din of life's (oars and frets;
It march'd with letters-it toil'd with tl1ou,ght,
Through eoboola and creeds which the earth forgets~
And statesmen trifte, and priests deceive,
And traden barter our worlds away;
Yet hearts to that golden promi~e cleave,
And atill, at times-Is it eome 1 they aay,