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HEBREW MELODIES .
The eye the same, except in tears.
How welcome those untrodden spheres ! She walks in beauty, like the night How sweet this very hour to die!
Of cloudless climes and starry skies; To soar from earth, and find all fears And all that's best of dark and bright
Lost in thy light-Eternity!
And striving to o’erleap the gulph,
Oh! in that future let us think Which waves in every raven tress,
To hold each heart the heart that shares, Or softly lightens o'er her face; With them the immortal waters drink, Where thoughts serenely sweet express
And soul in soul grow deathless theirs!
But tell of days in goodness spent, Exulting yet may bound,
And drink from all the living rills
That gush on holy ground;
May glance in tameless transport by:-
A step as fleet, an eye more bright, Tre Harp the Monarch-Minstrel swept, Hath Judah witness'd there;
The King of men, the loved of Heaven, And o'er her scenes of lost delight Which Music hallow'd while she wept
Inhabitants more fair. O’er tones her heart of hearts had given, The cedars wave on Lebanon, Redoubled be her tears, its chords are But Judah's statelier maids are gone!
riven ! It soften'd men of iron mould,
More blest each palm that shades those It gave them virtues not their own;
plains No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
Than Israel's scatter'd race; That felt not, fired not to the tone, For, taking root, it there remains Till David's lyre grew mightier than his
In solitary grace: throne!
It cannot quit its place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.
But we must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die;
Our temple hath not left a stone,
Devotion and her daughter Love
Weep for the harp of Judah's broken If that high World, which lies beyond
shell ; Our own, surviving Love endears ; Mourn - where their God hath dwelt the If there the cherish'd heart be fond,
And where shall Israel lave her bleeding
VIJI. feet? And when shall Sion's songs again seem
On! snatch'd away in beanty's bloom,
sweet? And Judah's melody once more rejoice
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly
Their leaves, the earliest of the year; voice?
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom: Tribes of the wandering foot and weary And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, How shall ye flee away and be at rest!
And feed deep thought with many a dream,
And lingering pause and lightly tread:
Away; we know that tears are vain,
That death nor heeds nor hears distress: Ox Jordan's banks the Arabs' camels stray, On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray,
Will this unteach us to complain? The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steep
Or make one mourner weep the less? Yet there-even there - Oh God! thy than- And thon--who tellst me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.
There-- where thy finger scorch'd the tabletstone!
IX. There - where thy shadow to thy people
My Soul is ark.-Oh! quickly string Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire :
The harp"I yet can brook to hear; Thyself-none living see and not expire!
And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o’er mine ear. Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear! If in this heart a hope be dear, Sweep from his shiver'd hand the oppres
That sound shall charm forth again; sors' spear :
If in these eyes there lurk a tear, How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod!
'Twill flow, and ceasc to burn my brain: How long thy temple worshipless, oh God!
But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, Minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
For it hath been by sorrow nurst,
And ached in sleepless silence long;
And break at once-- or yield to song.
Came o'er that eye of blue;
And then methonght it did appear
Beside thee ceased to shine;
That fill'd that glance of thine.
Can banish from the sky,
That lightens o’er the heart
Shrunken and sinewless, and ghastly bare:
From lips that moved not and unbreathing Tax Days are done, thy fame begun;
frame, Thy country's strains record
Like cavern'd winds, the hollow accents The triumphs of her chosen Son, The slaughters of his sword !
Saul saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak, The deeds he did, the fields he won, At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke. The freedom he restored !
“Why is my sleep disquieted ? Though thou art fall’n, while we are free
Who is he that calls the dead?
Is it thou, oh King? Behold,
Such arc mine; and such shall be
Thine, to-morrow, when with me: Thy spirit on our breath!
Ere the coming day is done,
Such shalt thou be, such thy son. Thy name, our charging hosts along, Fare thee well, but for a day; Shall be the battle-word !
Then we mix our mouldering clay. Thy fall, the theme of choral song
Thou, thy race, lie pale and low, From virgin-voices pour'd!
Pierced by sh of many a bow: To weep would do thy glory wrong!
And the falchion by thy side
To thy heart thy hand shall guide:
"ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE
PREACHER.” WARRIORS and Chiefs ! should the shaft or
FAME, wisdom, love, and power were minc, Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord,
And health and youth possess'd me; Heed not the corse, though a king's, in
My goblets blush'd from every vine, your path :
And lovely forms caress'd me; Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath!
I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes, Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, All earth can give, or mortal prize,
And felt my soul grow tender; Should the soldiers of Saul look away from
Was mine of regal splendour.
the foe, Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet! I strive to number o'er what days Mine be the doom which they dared not
Remembrance can discover, to meet.
Which all that life or earth displays
Would lure me to live over. Farewell to others, but never we part,
There rose no day, there roll'd no hour Heir to iny royalty, son of my heart! Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway; And not a trapping deck'd my power
Of pleasure unembitter'd; Or kingly the death, which awaits us to-day!
That gall’d not while it glitter'd.
The serpent of the field, by art
And spells, is won froin harming;
But that which coils around the heart, SAUL.
Oh! who hath power of charming ?
It will not list to wisdom's lore,
Nor music's voice can lure it;
But there it stings for evermore
The soul that must endure it. “Samuel, raise thy buried head!
King, behold the phantom-seer!” Earth yawn’d; he stood the centre of a cloud: Light changed its hue, retiring from his
XV. shroud. Death stood all glassy in his fixed eye; When coldness wraps this suffering clay, His hand was wither'd and his veins weredry; Ah, whither strays the immortal mind? His foot, in bony whiteness, glitter'd there, | It cannot die, it cannot stay,
But leaves its darken'd dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace
By steps each planet's heavenly way? Or fill at once the realms of space,
A thing of eyes, that all survey ?
Chaldea's seers are good,
But here they have no skill: And the unknown letters stood
Untold and awful still. And Babel's men of age
Are wise and deep in lore ; But now they were not sage,
They saw—but knew no more.
A captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth, He heard the king's command,
He saw that writing's truth. The lamps around were bright,
The prophecy in view; He read it on that night,
The morrow proved it true.
Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,
A thought unseen, but seeing all,
Shall it survey, shall it recal:
So darkly of departed years,
And all, that was, at once appears.
Its eye shall roll through chaos back; And where the furthest heaven had birth,
The spirit trace its rising track. And where the future mars or makes,
Its glance dilate o'er all to be,
Fix'd in its own eternity.
It lives all passionless and pure:
Its years as moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing,
O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly; A nameless and eternal thing,
Forgetting what it was to die.
“Belshazzar's grare is made,
His kingdom pass'd away, He in the balance weighd,
Is light and worthless clay. The shroud, his robe of state,
His canopy, the stone ; The Mede is at his gate!
The Persian on his throne!
Sun of the Sleepless! melancholy star! Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far, That show'st the darkness thou canst not
dispel, How like art thou to joy remember'd well! 80 gleams the past, the light of other days, Which shines, but warms not with its
powerless rays; A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold, Distinct, but distant-clear-but, oh how
VISION OF BELSHAZZAP.
The King was on his throne,
The Satraps throng'd the hall; A thousand bright lamps shone
O'er that high festival. A thousand cups of gold,
In Judah deem'd divineJehovah's vessels hold
The godless Heathen's wine!
In that same hour and hall,
The fingers of a hand Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand : The fingers of a man ;
A solitary hand Along the letters ran,
And traced them like a wand.
WERB my bosom as false as thou deemst it
to be, I need not bave wander'd from far Galilee; It was but abjuring my creed to efface The curse which, thou sayst, is the crime
of my race. If the bad never triumph, then God is
with thee! If the slave only sin, thou art spotless and
free! If the Exile on earth is an Outcast on high, Live on in thy faith, but in mine I will die.
The monarch saw, and shook,
And bade no more rejoice; All bloodless wax'd his look
And tremulous his voice. "Let the men of lore appear,
The wisest of the earth, And expound the words of fear,
Which mar our royal mirth.”
I have lost for that faith more than thou
canst bestow, As the God who permits thee to prosper
doth know; In his hand is my heart and my hope, and
in thine The land and the life which for him I
that day, AEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE. But I mark'd not the twilight-beam melting
away; On, Mariamne! now for thee
Oh! would that the lightning had glared The heart for which thou bled'st is
in its stead, bleeding;
And the thunderbolt burst on the conquerRevenge is lost in agony,
or's head! And wild remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou ?
But the Gods of the Pagan shall never Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading :
profane Ah, couldst thou—thou wouldst pardon now, The shrine where Jehovah disdain'd not to Though Hearen were to my prayer un
reign ; heeding.
And scatter'd and scorn'd as thy people And is she dead ?—and did they dare
Our worship, oh Father! is only for thee. Obey my phrensy's jealous raving? My wrath but dooin'd my own despair: The sword that smote her 's o'er me
XXI. waving. But thou art cold, my murder'd love!
We sat down and wept by the waters And this dark heart is vainly craving Of Babel, and thought of the day For her who soars alone above,
When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters, And leaves my soul unworthy saving. Made Salem's high places his prey ;
And ye, oh her desolate Daughters ! She's gone, who shared my diadem; Were scatter'd all weeping away.
She sunk, with her my joys entombing; I swept that flower from Judah's stem
While sadly we gazed on the river Whose leaves for me alone were blooming; Which rollid on in freedom below, And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell,
They demanded the song; but, oh never This bosom's desolation dooming; That triumph the stranger shall know! And I have earn'd those tortures well,
May this right hand be wither'd for ever, Which unconsumed are still consuming! Ere it string our high harp for the foo! XX.
On the willow that harp is suspended,
Oh Salem! its sound should be free;
But left me that token of thee:
And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended
With the voice of the spoiler by me! From the last hill that looks on thy once
holy dome I beheld thee, oh Sion! when render'd to Rome:
XXII. 'Twas thy last sun went down, and the
flames of thy fall THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNAFlash'd back on the last glance I gave to
The Assyrian came down like the wolf I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my
on the fold, home,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple And forgot for a moment my bondage tocome;
and gold; I beheld but the death-fire that fed on thy And the sheen of their spears was like stars fane,
on the sea, And the fast-fetter'd hands that made ven- When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep
geance in vain.
On many an eve, the high spot whence I Like the leaves of the forest when Summer
gazed Had reflected the last beam of day as it That host with their banners at sunset blazed;
were seen: While I stood on the height, and beheld Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn the decline
hath blown, Of the rays from the mountain that shone That host on the morrow lay wither'd and on thy shrine.