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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!
Meet in her aspect and her eyes :
Thus mellow'd to that tender light It must be so: 'tis not for self
Which heaven to gaudy day denies. That we so tremble on the brink;

And striving to o’erleap the gulph,
One shade the more, one ray the less, Yet cling to Being's severing link.
Had half impair'd the nameless grace

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!
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, THe wild Gazelle on Judah's hills

But tell of days in goodness spent, Exulting yet may bound,
A mind at peace with all below,

And drink from all the living rills
A heart whose love is innocent!

That gush on holy ground;
Its airy step and glorious eye

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.
It told the triumphs of our King,
It wafted glory to our God;

But we must wander witheringly,
It made our gladden'd valleys ring,

In other lands to die;
The cedars bow, the mountains nod; And where our fathers' ashes be,
Ity sound aspired to Heaven and there Our own may never lie:


Our temple hath not left a stone,
Since then, though heard on earth no more, And Mockery sits on Salem's throne.

Devotion and her daughter Love
Still bid the bursting spirit soar
To sounds that seem as from above,

In dreams that day's broad light can not

OA! weep for those that wept by Babel's

Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a

dream :

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,

Godless dwell!

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,
The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave,
Mankind their country-Israel but the grave!

And lingering pause and lightly tread:
Fond wretch! as if her step disturb’d

the dead!

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,

ders sleep:

Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

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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;
Since our country, our God- Oh, my Sire! And now 'tis doo:n’d to know the worst,
Demand that thy Danghter expire;

And break at once-- or yield to song.
Since thy triumph was bonght by thy vow-
Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now!

And the voice of my mourning is o’er,
And the mountains hehold me no more :
If the hand that I love lay me low, I saw thee weep- the big bright tear
There cannot be pain in the blow !

Came o'er that eye of blue;

And then methonght it did appear
And of this, oh, my Father! be sure- A violet dropping dew:
That the blood of thy child is as pure I saw thee smile- the sapphire's blaze
As the blessing I beg ere it flow,

Beside thee ceased to shine;
And the last thought that soothes me below. It could not match the living rays

That fill'd that glance of thine.
Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Be the judge and the hero unbent! As clouds from yonder sun receive
I have won the great battle for thee, A deep and mellow die,
And my Father and Country are free! Which scarce the shade of coming eve

Can banish from the sky,
When this blood of thy giving hath gushd, Those smiles unto the moodiest mind
When the voice that thou lovest is hushid, Their own pure joy impart;
Let my memory still be thy pride, Their sunshine leaves a glow behind
And forget not I smiled as I died !

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?
Thou shalt not taste of death!

Is it thou, oh King? Behold,
The generous blood that flow'd from thee. Bloodless are these limbs, and cold :
Disdain'd to sink beneath :

Such arc mine; and such shall be
Within our veins its currents 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
Thou shalt not be deplored.

To thy heart thy hand shall guide:
Crownless, breathless, headless fall,
Son and sire, the house of Saul!"




PREACHER.” WARRIORS and Chiefs ! should the shaft or

the sword

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,
Thou, whose spell can raise the dead,

Nor music's voice can lure it;
Bid the prophet's form appear.

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,
All, all in earth, or skies display'd,

Shall it survey, shall it recal:
Each fainter trace that memory holds,

So darkly of departed years,
In one broad glance the soul beholds,

And all, that was, at once appears.
Before Creation peopled earth,

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,
While sun is quench'd or system breaks,

Fix'd in its own eternity.
Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,

It lives all passionless and pure:
An age shall fleet like earthly year;

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




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


may be,


And now
on that mountain I stood on

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;
ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION And the hour when thy glories were ended,

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


thy wall.

geance in vain.

is green,

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.


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