BETA

The Congress of Nations.

A mighty dome is rear’d in solemn state,1
To hold the produce of the World’s invention ;2
The spacious palace of the labouring Great,3
Whose bloodless triumphs history loves to
mention.4
From every land which Man has made his home,5
Where arts and science with due culture flourish,6
O’er trackless wastes and billows crown’d with foam,7
They come, the ardent Mind with food to nourish.8
The trophies of the Past fade into gloom,9
Which conquerors planted on the field of battle ;10
Where breathing armies sank before their doom,11
And shouts of glory drown’d the low death-
rattle.12
These things were once, while yet the World was
young ;13
Ere it drank wisdom from the fount of reason ;14
Now, let a curtain o’er such scenes be hung—15
War’s winter fled, we hail a softer season.16
The sunder’d children of the human race,17
Crossing their bounds to mingle with each other,18
In foreign nations kindred features trace,19
And learn that every mortal is their brother.20
The love of Art engenders love to Man,21
And this, in turn, the love of his Creator ;22
’Tis Ignorance that mars Heaven’s gracious plan,23
And rears in blood the murderer and man-hater.24
A glorious epoch brightens history’s page,25
Shedding upon the Future dazzling lustre ;26
How proud the thought that England is the stage,27
Which shall re-echo with the Nations’ muster !28