Alexandria

Stand on the gleaming Pharos, and aloud   
Shout, Commerce, to the kingdoms of the earth;   
Shout, for thy golden portals are set wide,   
And all thy streamers o’er the surge, aloft,   
In pomp triumphant wave. The weary way          
That pale Nearchus passed, from creek to creek   
Advancing slow, no longer bounds the track   
Of the adventurous mariner, who steers   
Steady, with eye intent upon the stars,   
To Elam’s echoing port. Meantime, more high           
Aspiring, o’er the Western main her towers   
The imperial city lifts, the central mart   
Of nations, and beneath the calm clear sky,   
At distance from the palmy marge, displays   
Her clustering columns, whitening to the morn.           
  Damascus’ fleece, Golconda’s gems, are there.   
Murmurs the haven with one ceaseless hum;   
The hurrying camel’s bell, the driver’s song,   
Along the sands resound. Tyre, art thou fallen?   
A prouder city crowns the inland sea,           
Raised by his hand who smote thee; as if thus   
His mighty mind were swayed to recompense   
The evil of his march through cities stormed,   
And regions wet with blood! and still had flowed   
The tide of commerce through the destined track,           
Traced by his mind sagacious, who surveyed   
The world he conquered with a sage’s eye,   
As with a soldier’s spirit.