Henry Hart Milman

  • God of the thunder! from whose cloudy seat
      The fiery winds of Desolation flow;
    Father of vengeance, that with purple feet
      Like a full wine-press tread’st the world below;
    The embattled armies wait thy sign to slay,
    Nor springs the beast of havoc on his...

  • From “The Fall of Jerusalem”
    TO the sound of timbrels sweet
    Moving slow our solemn feet,
    We have borne thee on the road
    To the virgin’s blest abode;
    With thy yellow torches gleaming,
    And thy scarlet mantle streaming,
    And the canopy above...