TYRE of the West, and glorying in the name More than in Faith's pure fame! O trust not crafty fort nor rock renown'd Earn'd upon hostile ground; Wielding Trade's master-keys, at thy proud will To lock or loose its waters, England! trust not still. Dread thine own power! Since haughty Babel's prime, High towers have been man's crime. Since her hoar age, when the huge moat lay bare, Strongholds have been man's snare. Thy nest is in the crags; ah! refuge frail! Mad counsel in its hour, or traitors, will prevail. He who scann'd Sodom for His righteous men Still spares thee for thy ten; But, should rash tongues the Bride of Heaven defy, He will not pass thee by; For, as earth's kings welcome their spotless guest, So gives He them by turn, to suffer or be blest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIGHT AND DAY: 3 by ISAAC ROSENBERG HEMLOCK AND CEDAR by CARL SANDBURG TO MR. THOMAS SOUTHERNE, ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 1742 by ALEXANDER POPE AN OLD BATTLE-FIELD by FRANK LEBBY STANTON FALSORUM DEORUM CULTOR by WILLIAM ROSE BENET A SONG OF CONTRDICTIONS by SAMUEL LAMAN BLANCHARD |