XI.

 But stronger omens chill the idolater;
 Above the standards towers a Cross of red.
 Oh, if he knew that sign, no sign of fear!
 Rome's crown is rent; now may her Pontiff shed
 The ashes on his brow, her Augur spread
 His eyes to mark the lightning o'er his shrine.
 The hour has come! The mystic steeds have fled,
 The Eagle stoops before the Cross divine;
Empire has gone, to dwell with mighty C ONSTANTINE .

XII.

 The glass ran down! Long had the coursers stood,
 Of Fate and Empire the unchanged record;
 Long had the E ASTERN H ARLOT'S cup of blood
 Made drunk the nations at her midnight board;
 Long had the martyr's groan from racks been pour'd;
 Their graves cried out, the winds bore up the cry,
 And it was heard, and in the West the sword
 Was girded on the Christian champion's thigh:
Woe to her turban'd front of pride and blasphemy.

XIII.

 A hostile trumpet summon'd.—'Twas a sound
 That ne'er before had pierced her jewell'd ear.
 On her indignant brow the helm was bound,
 With giant grasp she seized the mace and spear.
 She look'd upon the sea.—A cross was there,
 Red as her own, and with it rush'd a train,
 That seem'd like Ocean's lords their barks to steer,
 An endless cloud of mast, and sheet, and vane,
Tempest of wrath and woe, with blood for all the rain.

XIV.

 I must to other themes, yet thought delays
 As o'er a noble grave, above the scene,
 Brought by that hour before me;—morning's blaze
 Flaming on wall, and shore, and surge of green;
 The galleys, like a wood, the capes between,
 Then flashing onwards;—on the foremost prow
 A warrior who his ninetieth year has seen,
 To whom the ring of gold-mail'd princes bow,
As if to W AR grown old, immortal Dandolo!—

XV.

 Constantinople!—then thy shout arose,
 And from thy ramparts roll'd the mystic flame
 Unquenchable—The ranks of battle close:
 The galleys rush'd with catapult and ram,
 Like hail the lances from the turrets came,
 And decks were fired, and champions downwards flung,
 Till wall, and shore, and surge in crimson swam.
 'Twas noon, the Grecian trumpet fainter rung;
At eve the Red-cross knights their hymn of triumph sung!

XVI.

 Then saw the Hippodrome the Genoese spear,
 For the bright Steeds must sail the western sea;
 And round the Circus gallop'd in career,
 With blazon'd shield, helm barr'd, and lance at knee,
 Like towers of steel, the German Chivalry.
 The Venice mariner, in cap and plume,
 And gold-seam'd gabardine, look'd on with glee;
 The Greek stood rapt, as by an opening tomb,
As if his spirit saw the Turk in Sophia's Dome.

XVII.

 The glass ran down! and Venice must resign
 The talisman of empire to the Gaul.
 Her emerald ring no more must wed the brine.
 Feebly she falls, yet more than she must fall:
 A thousand years had stood her sacred wall,
 The Isthmus-guard to lovely Italy;
 And now the horn has blown the final call
 That, bids in chains another Corinth lie,
Another Greece bow down to blood and perfidy.

XVIII.

 A throng was in St. Mark's, but 'twas no throng
 Like that, which o'er the Adriatic foam
 Had borne the Steeds with warrior shout and song,
 Then fix'd them for long glory o'er the dome:
 She sinn'd, and now the hour of wrath was come;
 Though 'twas the robber made the adult'ress bare:
 The crowd were fierce-eyed men with pike and drum
 And brazen gun, and tri-colour's broad glare;
The pale Venetian stood aloof, in weak despair.

XIX.

 Such is the spoil of Time!—Unhallowed thought!
 Empires might stand, unshaken as their globe.
 But which has worn its ermine without spot?
 'Twas Justice, and not Time that tore their robe.
 What sent the steel their pamper'd hearts to probe?
 'Twas their own blow, no matter by what name,
 Conspirator, or conqueror, monarch, mob.
 They built their pile, then Judgment sent the flame,
To rid the earth of guilt, the wearied heaven of shame.

XX.

 'Tis not in mockery of man that earth
 Is strewed with splendid fragments, temple, tower;
 That realms, where glory sprang full arm'd to birth,
 Are desolate, the snake and tiger's bower;—
 They lie the monuments of evil power,
 Not freaks of chance, but warnings against crime;
 And ancient Nineveh, to earth's last hour,
 Had she been pure, might stand as in her prime;
Nay, stand in growing pomp, till God had finish'd time.