The horn of battle rings for the last time,
O Jericho, around thy lofty walls.
And now, brave princes, and assembled hosts,
This day another miracle behold:
Ye shall not lift a spear, nor draw a bow,
Yet ere yon sun his mid-sky height attains,
The city shall be ours.
Long to behold its boasted bulwarks fall;
And in the blood of its inhabitants
Our thirsty weapons bathe.
The fearful watchmen on thy sun-gilt towers
View the young dawn; and, turning to the east
Where shine a thousand radiant dies of light,
Worship the redly flaming king of day.
Vain are thy walls of hewn and massy stone,
Thy tower-crowned palaces, thy trophied halls,
Thy swelling battlements, and golden spires!
Vain is the valour of thy men of might,
And warlike lifters of the brazen spear;
And vain the ponderous bars of thy proud gates!
Our sacred banners, floating on the winds,
Emblazoned with the golden signs of heaven,h
And cherub-shadowed ark, by holy priests
Borne 'twixt two dreadful hosts of armed men,
The shining of whose mail like lightning streams
Along thy walls and turrets, hath, since dawn,
In awful silence six times thee begirt.
See! once again, the last, seventh time they come.
And hark! the seven times seventh loud blast doth ring
Of horn and trump: valley, and hill, and tower,
Re-echo back the death-song of thy fall;
For thou shalt sink, proud city, and be found
No more among the nations of the earth!
[The Ark appears borne by the Priests, the Twelve Standards and a host of Warriors, in solemn procession.-Trumpets, &c.]
Wave high your glittering banners on the air,
Mail-clad gonfaloniers; blow the shrill trump
And martial horn, loud, and still louder yet.
Break, break the mystic silence, all ye hosts
Of joyful Israel; shake the glancing spear,
And strike your sounding bucklers; lift the shout,
The shout triumphant, o'er yon trembling city,
Till shake th' eternal hills, and heaven resounds
With crash of falling walls, down tumbling towers,
The shrieks of horror, and the cries of death!
[Flourish, Shouts, &c.-The City falls.]
It falls! it falls! and Jericho's no more!
Temple and palace, dome and battlement,
With hideous shock, down on each other rush!
The sun is darkened with thick clouds of dust,
And from the city comes a dreadful wail
Of anguish and despair! Draw forth your swords,
Ye valiant princes, and ye men of war;
Mount o'er the ruins of their gates and towers;
Let none of all the Baal adorers live,
Save Rahab and her house, who hid our spies.—
The sword of Israel, and the wasting fire,
Shall to the end of time, O Jericho,
Make thee a desolation! In thy halls
Of bannered pride, the wolf and bear shall dwell ;
The crested cormorant from thy windows cry.
Thy temples shall be made a dwelling place
For the she-lion's whelps, who from the reeds
Of Jordan's flood shall come with thee to dwell.
The hideous snake, with eye of fire malign,
Shall in thy regal chambers hiss the raven,
Perched on thy blackened walls; and thou remain,
O'ergrown with weeds, a lonely heap of stones!
Haste to the work of death!-On, on to victory!
"Yes, sisters, yes, when pale distress Implores your aiding hand,
Let not a partial faithfulness,
Let not a mortal's vain command,
Urge you to break th' unalterable laws
Of Heaven-descended charity.
Ah! follow still the soft-eyed deity;
For know, each path she draws
Meets at the central dome of social joy.
Follow the soft-eyed deity;
She bids ye, as ye hope for blessings, bless :
Aid then the general cause of general happiness."
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