THE DESTRUCTION OF BABEL. BY WILLIAM HOWITT. FORTH walked the king upon the terraced height As one long after on the self-same spot→ "Is not this Babel, that my hand hath built For the great house of my unbounded realm, Oh! 'twas a glorious scene!-Throughout the earth Lay one wide solitude. No people now Did till its flood-depopulated fields,— But here, the work of his imperial power, Babel arose, sole city of the earth, Sole home of man, the mother of all realms; And through its wide fair streets, and on its roofs, Streamed its gay population all abroad, Whose vast form, wreathed upon his pillared height, Amid the city crowd; when, lo! his eye That wild shape, with stern air, and downward eyes; Drew near, they started wide, with sudden hush Once more to look abroad with envious eyes; Once more to tell us thy perpetual tale Of a destruction that doth never come? Seest thou that thousand-times-denounced tower? How gloriously it stands, and soars aloft Into heaven's shine, and soon shall reach its height! Seest thou these guardian gods— these happy crowds- On him? And yet it came !-the deluge came ! Oh monarch! what dost thou, that was not done Gigantic monsters, in their impious might Who vainly hoped, in their huge mountain towers, Hast thou not fought, and slaughtered, and laid waste? Hast thou not filled them with a foolish fear Of thy brute gods,—and made them pile thy towers- And now dost hope to scale the very heavens With that vain structure? What! think'st thou that God I tell thee, nay-they come!" Then laughed the king, Good prophet, tell us where?" And then he turned, |