Lo! Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone
Lo! a strange town, lying alone Death has reared himself a throne Where the good, bad, worst, and the best have gone to their eternal rest There, shrine and towers: Death has reared himself a throne
Time eaten-towers that tremble not Resemble nothing, nothing that is ours
Down, down in that town, shall settle hence: Hell, rising from its throne, no earthly moans,
No rays from heaven coming down On the long night-time of that town But light from the lurid sea Streams up the turrets silently Gleams up the pinnacles far and free Up domes, up spires, up kingly halls, Up fanes, up Babylon-like walls
No swellings tell that winds may be Upon some far-off happy seas No heavings hint that winds have been On seas less hideously serene But lo, a stir is in the air! The wave - there is a movement there! As if the towes had thrust aside, In slightly sinking, the dull tide; Aquiescently beneath the sky The melancholy waters lie The waves have now a redder glow The hours are breathing faint and low And when, amid no earthly moans Down, down in the town shall settle hence, Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Down, down in that town, shall settle hence: Hell, rising from its throne, no earthly moans,
Three opens fanes and gaping graves Yawn level with the luminous waves But not the riches there that lie In each idol's diamond eye Not the gaily-jewelled dead Tempt the waters from their bed So blend the turrets, shadows there That all seem pendulous in air While from a tower in the town
But lo, a stir is in the air! The waves have now a redder glow The hours are breathing faint and low And when amid no earthly moans, Down, down in that town shall settle hence: Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Far down within the dim West Where the good and the band and Have gone to their eternal rest