'Tis night. And now is Dian seen
Ensconced upon her silver throne;
The glittering, bright-eyed stars, serene,
In stately cohorts throw their sheen
Down on the chiseled Chalcic stone
Like spangled rays of baldric blue
That girds about the solemn waste,
Fire-streaked by dark's bediamonded zone.
No sound breaks on the desert deep;
Among the white and ghastly fanes
Is heard the zephyr's sighing moan,
Where sheeted legions vigil keep.
There sleeps the queenly Babylon,
Nor rears on high thrice-terraced cone,
Nor star-lit spire nor temple dome
Aflame with altars of the Sun.
Through corridor and court lush grown,
The lizard and the bat hold sway;
The mould of years envelops all,
The palace and the cell decay.
And spectral shadows nightly wail
Great Ishtar and Assyrian Baal.