XXX.

The towered City loves thee well, Strong Tower of David's House! In thee She hails the unvanquished citadel That frowns o'er Error's subject sea.

With magic might that Tower repels A host that breaks where foe is none,— No foe but statued Saints in cells High-ranged, and smiling in the sun.

There stands Augustin; Leo there; And Bernard, with a maiden face Like John's; and, strong at once and fair, That Spirit-Pythian, Athanase.

Upon thy star-surrounded height God's angel keepeth watch and ward; And sunrise flashes thence ere night Hath left dark street and dewy sward.